


The Second Toll

by Silvershadowe



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alchemy Professor Ed, Gen, Order of the Phoenix AU, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Umbridge is the worst, sick ed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9804503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvershadowe/pseuds/Silvershadowe
Summary: Professor Edward Elric is a mystery. He doesn't believe in magic, is terrified of Transfiguration, and his health is less consistent than the Weasley twins's DADA attendance. It's up to the students of Hogwarts to uncover his past... before his strange illness kills their young professor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Fanfiction under the same name, but I decided to crosspost when I discovered AO3! I hope you like it!  
> Thanks for reading, and please, leave a review on your way out!

Harry Potter sighed as he watched his friends go. Now that they were prefects, he supposed he'd be alone even more than usual.

It seemed that everything on the train was determined to mock him, as every compartment was full. Harry ended up at the open door of the only compartment with a single occupant. A boy with long blonde hair and a bright red jacket stared out the window. Seemingly unnoticed, Harry knocked on the doorframe. The boy turned, revealing bright golden eyes, and Harry was reminded of professor Lupin for a moment.

"Mind if I sit here?" Harry asked.

The boy went back to the window and said, "Do what you want." He was fiddling with a silver watch and seemed nervous.

"So, is this your first year at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, trying to start a conversation.

The blonde looked at Harry, the ghost of a smile playing across his face. "You could say that," he smirked.

Harry was puzzled by his cryptic answer, but continued. "You don't look like a first year," he pried.

A look of something akin to euphoria spread on the boy's face, but it quickly dissolved into anger. "Damn right. I'm not short."

Harry tried not to smile. "I'm Harry Potter," he said, holding out his hand.

To his astonishment, the boy didn't look surprised, or demand to see his scar. Instead, he reached out with his left hand. "Edward Elric. Call me Ed. Or Professor Elric, at least at school."

Harry choked on whatever pleasantry he was about to offer. "What? Professor?"

Ed smiled. "It's true."

Once he got past his initial shock- somewhat- Harry asked, "Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Ed shook his head. "Nah. The subject's new to the school."

"What's new to the school?" asked Hermione, stepping inside brightly.

"I am," Ed smiled, barely reacting to the two teens who had just thrown themselves onto the benches.

"And who might you be?" she asked, but was interrupted by Ron, who decided that his complaining was much more important than a new kid.

"It's awful up there!" the redhead moaned. "It's hot and boring, and—"

"Ron! I'm Hermione Granger, and this prat is Ron Weasley."

"Hey!"

"I'm Ed Elric."

"What year are you in? We're all in 5th."

Ed gave her a smile. "5th, huh? You'll be able to take my class then."

Hermione froze. "Class?" she spluttered. "Yeah. You'll find out tonight. Don't want to ruin the surprise for everyone."

"A teacher? But… how old are you?" she asked incredulously.

"16." Ed chuckled at her stricken expression.

"You're only a year older than us!" Ron cried. "You must be some sort of magic prodigy!"

To their bewilderment, Ed rolled his eyes. "Magic… what a load of bullshit." Harry and Ron's jaws dropped, and Hermione gasped. "What? It's impossible. It defies the laws of physics! There's no regard for equivalent exchange!" The three were shocked. "What?" Ed demanded again.

"How can you be a professor at a school for magic and not even believe in it?" Ron cried.

Ed winked. "You'll see."

Hermione shook her head, and was about to argue when Ed said, "Look, I know you've got questions, and I can't promise I'll be able to answer them. But—"

"Hello, Potter," a snide voice drawled. "Malfoy," Ron growled, and the Slytherin smiled. "Blood traitor. Mudblood. And who would this be? A new first year? Look boys, they're corrupting the new blood already What a-"

Draco was cut off by the sudden meeting of his face and Ed's fist. "I'm 16, you bastard! You think I'm short?"

Malfoy chuckled, nursing the side of his face. "Oh look, it seems someone's got a temper. I guess we'll just have to-"

Ed punched him again, this time, bringing him to the floor. "Now, is that any way to talk to your new teacher?" he asked.

All the blood drained from the felled Malfoy's face. He glared up at Ed's smirking face and said, "My father will hear about this. He's got ties in the Ministry, and he can make you, and your family's life a living hell."

"I've already been through hell. And as for family, well, good luck finding them." He smirked. "They're a world away." Draco looked at him with renewed fear. Ed smiled brightly. "And if that's not reason enough, I can always fail you. Bet daddy'll be real proud."

Malfoy stood, eyes blazing, and left before he could embarrass himself further.

Ed fell back into his seat, grin dissipating as he coughed into his hand. It was the only noise in the room as the golden trio stared at him in amazement. "What?" Ed snapped when he saw their stricken faces.

"That was bloody awesome!" cried Ron, breaking the silence.

"That kid was a bastard. He deserved it. Hope he wasn't a friend of yours. Didn't seem like one."

Harry burst out laughing. "Malfoy? A friend? That's ridiculous!"

"Good," said Ed tiredly. A knock at the compartment door sounded, and Harry stood to open it.

"Anything off the trolley, dears? an old witch asked. Ron jumped up, and the two boys began to search their pockets. Hermione rolled her eyes, then noticed Ed. His eyes were closed, and he looked like he was trying not to be sick.

"Ed? Are you okay?" she inquired softly, trying not to alert the the enthusiastic idiots behind her.

He nodded, massaging his temples. "Headache," he answered. "I'm gonna try to sleep now." Ed gave her a weak smile. "Don't worry about it."

Around two hours later, they arrived at Hogwarts. By that time, Ed was fast asleep. "Do you think we should wake him?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"Yeah, we can't just leave him here," Harry replied, reaching out to shake him awake. In seconds, the amber eyes were open.

"What's up, Alph-" he cut himself off. "What is it?" he tried again.

"We've arrived," Ron said.

"Oh good." Ed jumped up. "Well, I guess I'll see you in class, then," the blonde proclaimed before leaving.

"What an odd boy," Hermione muttered.

...

That night at the feast, there were, in fact, 2 new teachers at the staff table. Ed, and- "It's that Umbridge woman!" Harry cried.

"Who?" said Hermione.

"She was at my hearing, she works for Fudge!"

"Nice cardigan," said Ron, smirking.

"She works for Fudge?" Hermione repeated, frowning. "What on earth's she doing here, then?"

The Sorting Hat's cryptic song caused them to forget about her, and the song was in turn forgotten about as a result of food, at least, by all but Hermione. She gazed up at the staff table, frowning, then noticed another strange thing. Ed had not eaten a thing. Instead, he had elected to join in pleasant conversation with- of all people- Severus Snape. Hermione shook her head imperceptibly, and turned back to her friends.

Dumbledore's speech was a reminder of things they knew all too well- the Forbidden Forest, Filch- until- "We have three new changes in staffing this year. We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Finally, Hogwarts has decided to bring back a class we haven't had in years. I am pleased announce the arrival of Professor Elric, our new Alchemy teacher."

Some polite applause rang out across the hall, but was quashed by the loud whispers concerning the new subject. "Alchemy?" cried Hermione as Ed waved good-naturedly from the head table.

"All students years 3-7 will be required to take this class," said the headmaster.

Hermione sighed in relief. "Thank goodness," she breathed. "I thought I hadn't signed up."

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes.

As Dumbledore's speech went on, Hermione's gaze drifted back up to the staff table. Ed was nowhere to be found.

...

Ed tried not to run from the room. He didn't want anyone worrying, though with the way he felt, he was beginning to rethink that decision.

They won't understand. They can never understand, he thought, attempting to smile reassuringly at the concerned face of Professor McGonagall.

As soon as he was out of the hall, Ed let the facade drop. His face twisted in pain, and he fell against the wall, sliding down as he tried desperately to he tasted it.

Blood.

The red liquid poured from his mouth as Edward fought from sobbing. Al's okay, he reminded himself. Al's okay. Al's got his body back, and he's alive. That's all that matters, he thought, but couldn't keep the tears from his eyes. Eventually, he leaned against the wall, the pain subsiding. Ed wiped the blood from his face, sighing deeply.

This is so much worse than automail, he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was concerned. Class had begun 10 minutes ago, and Ed- sorry, Professor Elric- was still as missing as he had been the night before. "Where is he?" cried Ron, sighing dramatically.

"I wonder if he's still asleep," said Harry. Hermione set her jaw. "I'm going to check, she announced, standing up and walking to the trapdoor in the floor that connected the classroom and Ed's quarters.

The Gryffindor knocked, but received no answer. She steeled herself, then opened the door and stepped down. She found Ed in a state she had not expected: wide awake.

He was completely surrounded by books, and was consistently muttering to himself. Hermione only picked up on a few words, as it seemed to be a mixture of English and a completely other language altogether. She heard a few isolated things, like "Truth" and "Alphonse" and "the Gate", but was overall, extremely confused.

"Um, Professor?" she asked. Ed didn't seem to hear her. He instead growled at the parchment he was writing on, and scribbled over it. Hermione was about to say something again when Ed started coughing- hard.

He pushed away from his desk, hacking violently. It seemed to snap him out of his trance, and Ed saw her. "Hermione?" he wheezed, then bent over again.

"Oh my goodness, what's wrong!" she cried, rushing over.

Ed waved her off, clearing his throat. "What is it?" he asked in a rather hoarse voice.

Hermione jumped at being addressed. "Class... class started a few minutes ago, sir."

Ed cocked an eyebrow. "Really?" he said, pulling out a silver watch. She nodded hesitantly. Ed sighed, looking longingly at the stack of books, then turned around and marched upstairs. Hermione quickly followed, then stopped when she noticed something shining. Her breath caught when she realized what it was. A puddle of blood glistened next to Edward's desk.

Hermione practically ran out of the room.

...

"Does anyone here know what alchemy is?"

A few people raised their hands, and Ed smirked. He was willing to bet that none of them did. He called on the most pompous looking of them all, the platinum blonde bastard from the train.

"Alchemy is a dead branch of magic used to turn lead into gold."

"Wrong. Can anyone tell Mr. Malfoy the flaws in his statement?" The whole class looked confused.

"Let me guess... your education about alchemy has been exactly what Draco said. That is to say, your entire education about alchemy has been a lie."

Whispers spread at this grand statement.

"First of all, alchemy is not dead. If that were true, me and... well, I wouldn't exist. Secondly, alchemy is not magic. It's a science, with theories, logic, laws that can't be broken, at least not without a price. Thirdly, alchemy is not just for turning lead to gold. In fact, that's illegal. Screws with the economy. It is the science of turning something into something else."

"Then why can't we just use transfiguration, sir?" asked a Slytherin.

"Because alchemy is better that your stupid magic." Ed grinned at their gasps of indignation. "Alchemy doesn't require a wand," he proclaimed.

Ed spun around and wrote in all capital letters: "EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE" on the blackboard.

"You cannot gain anything without losing something of equal value. This is alchemy's first law, and forgetting it can get you killed. There are three parts to alchemy: comprehension, deconstruction, and reconstruction..." Ed continued on, describing alchemic formulas and theories at a breakneck pace that no one could follow, even Hermione was confused.

Ed stopped suddenly, turning around with a bemused and thoughtful look on his face. "You haven't understood anything I've said, have you?" he asked. "Nothing since the three parts of alchemy, sir," said Harry. Ed sighed. "Okay, how many of you have any scientific knowledge?"

Everyone raised their hands. Ed rolled his eyes.

"Muggle science. Chemistry? Physics?"

Nearly all the hands went down. Harry and Hermione were among the few that stayed up.

Ed took in this new information. "Alright. You will have a distinct advantage. Remember, alchemy is a muggle science. Anyone can do it, as long as they have a good chemical understanding and a Gate."

Hermione started. Gate? That was one of the few things she had heard Ed say, or at least, understood. "Gate, sir?" she asked, and Ed frowned.

"I keep forgetting alchemy isn't practiced here. All people have, inside them, a gate that allows them to perform the science. The Xi- ...some people practice the purification arts, a branch of alchemy. Sadly, I am not one of those people, and you're going to have to learn my way."

"What's the difference, sir?" asked Harry.

"Damnit, are you trying to confuse yourselves?" Ed cried. "Okay, I'm just going to start from the beginning." Ed turned as drew a square within a circle on the blackboard. "This is a transmutation circle. This one's basic, but useful... what is it?"

A small Gryffindor had his hand raised. "How did you draw such a perfect circle?" he asked.

Ed sighed.

...

By the end of the day, Ed had finally got this teaching thing. He had to dumb down his lessons much more than he had previously anticipated, but the students had begun to understand a few of alchemy's basic principles.

He also discovered at the end of the day that there would be a feast- or something like it- every night, and he cringed at the thought he might have once been excited about. "Damn Truth," Ed muttered after a rather awkward conversation about his lack of appetite with one Poppy Pomfrey.

He was getting worse, that much he knew, but Ed still ignored it, and planned on doing so until he was on his deathbed. Which may have been sooner than he thought. But getting help meant getting questioned, and questions were the last things he wanted. As long as he could get home before he died, everything would be okay.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Ed looked up from his book. He had taken to studying at his classroom desk, as kids come to ask him questions so often, he'd preferred not to have to climb up the ladder every time.

"What is it, Longbottom?" Ed asked the fidgeting Gryffindor.

"I was just wondering... you said alchemy comes in 3 parts, comprehension, deconstruction, and reconstruction. But what if something is already deconstructed? Could you put it back together?"

"Yeah, you can. As long as you have all the original components."

"But what if it's something abstract? Like... someone's mind?" Neville asked, eyes pleading.

Ed sighed. "Human transmutation is impossible, kid. Sorry, but it just can't be done."

Neville looked down. "Alright. Thanks anyway," he muttered, exiting the room. Ed went back to his books, but only a few moments later, heard a soft cry from outside. He stood and walked over to the doorway, listening.

"Ha! Look at him! Just as weak as his parents!:

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Oh, look! It talks! Which is less than I can say for your dear old mum and dad, Longbottom!"

"My parents were brave!"

The sound of a punch.

"Your parents were weak idiots who couldn't even defend themselves. And yet, even after losing their minds, they're still smarter than you!" Malfoy cackled.

That was where Ed came in. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he yelled at the five Slytherins gathered around Neville.

"Oh, hello Professor! Neville here just fell, see, and-"

"Don't bullshit me, Malfoy!" Ed shouted, angrier than he had been in a long while. Ed pinched the bridge of his nose when he realized that he couldn't actually hurt his students. At least, not without being reprimanded by McGonagall, like he was after the train. Then he remembered. "10 points from Slytherin, each. And detention with me for a week, starting tomorrow." Cries of dissent were promptly ignored. "Now get back to your dormitories. Go on!"

The brutes left, and Ed smirked at Draco's lame attempt at a death glare.

Once they were gone, Ed approached Neville, who was sitting against the wall nursing a black eyes, but looking more dejected than hurt.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Ed shook his head. "Gah! I hate that Malfoy brat!" he spat, and Neville smiled a bit. "Thinks he can do anything because his dad's loaded. Tch! Bastard!"

Neville looked down. "Did you hear what he said?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did. What happened?"

"Death Eaters tortured them into insanity when I was little."

"I'm sorry. But what I said earlier, about human transmutation? It's true. It only hurts whoever does it. There's no getting around it."

"But if-"

"No. It just doesn't work like that. Besides-" Ed stopped talking as a new wave of coughing overtook him. His hand flew to his mouth.

"Professor?"

Ed tried to tell him he was fine, but couldn't get a good enough breath in.

Ed stuck his hand out and pressed it against the wall, doubling over in pain. "Oh my God, Professor!" cried the young Gryffindor, rushing over.

After what seemed like an eternity to Ed, the hacking finally stopped, and the blonde shakily stood up. "I'm fine, Neville. It's okay. Just a cold," he said, then noticed the boy's wide eyed gaze. He was staring at Ed's hand.

For a moment, Ed was afraid his glove had come off, exposing his automail. He brought his hand to his face.

The once white glove was soaked in blood.

"Professor, you have to go to the hospital wing," murmured Neville, eyes still transfixed on his stained hand.

"No. Look, Neville, you can't tell anyone about this, okay? I'm fine, really. I don't want anyone freaking out over a little bit of blood."

Neville looked at him in disbelief. "A little bit of blood? You're kidding!"

"Please, Neville! Just... keep a secret? For now?"

The dark haired Gryffindor frowned, but nodded once. "Fine. But if I see you getting worse, I'm getting Madame Pomfrey.

...

Over the next week, Ed decided he really didn't like Professor Umbridge. Honestly, what was there to like? It was as though she was the culmination of all things Ed hated. Her creepy kid voice, her pink clothing, and her uncanny resemblance to a toad chimera were only a few things that he despised.

But worst of all, she was nosy. Every day, she peppered him with questions, things he couldn't answer, in that little girl voice that made his constant headache even worse.

"So, where are you from?"

Ed groaned. "We've been over this. I'd rather not say," he growled.

Dolores was undeterred. "But why is that? I won't judge you, if that's what you're worried about. I'm a very open-arms person!"

Ed rolled his eyes and tried to keep from turning his automail arm into a sword and running her through with it.

"I'm sure you are. Look, I gotta go..."

"I was just wondering why someone of your age is here without parents?"

Ed froze. He spun around slowly, golden eyes blazing. "What do you mean, 'someone of your age'?"

"Well, you can't be more that 12!"

It took all of Ed's self control not to attack her then and there. "I'm 16 years old, Dolores. And I stopped being a child when I was ten. So don't confuse me with your innocent little first years, because-"

"Professor!"

Ed whirled around to see Hermione. She opened her mouth, then closed it, seemingly without anything to say. "I, er, have a question about yesterday's lesson," she stuttered.

"Alright. What's up?" he asked, ignoring Umbridge.

"Mr. Elric!" she cried, but to no answer. "I demand you tell me-"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Professor. Bye."

Sensing her dismissal, and, being unable to do anything about it, Umbridge tottered away.

As soon as she was gone, Ed looked at Hermione. "You don't have any questions, do you?" he asked, smirking.

She shook her head. "Sir, everyone hates Professor Umbridge, but we can't-"

"No, it's okay. I understand. Thanks, by the way. I am known for being too impulsive."

Hermione smiled slightly, then turned down the hall.

Ed chuckled softly. Why did everyone keep reminding him of Al today?


	3. Chapter 3

Draco Malfoy stood in front of the door to Professor Elric's classroom. Going in was the last thing he wanted to do, but his detention started tonight, and he was already late, the other four offending Slytherins having arrived at least ten minutes ago.

Rolling his eyes, the platinum blonde walked inside. "Let's just get this over with," Draco drawled.

"Yes, let's. I don't want you to be here any more than you do," said the young professor, looking tired.

Malfoy smirked. "So, what am I doing tonight. Lines? Blackboards?"

Ed smiled deviously. "No. Nothing like that." He gestured to a large pile of wood. "You're going to chop this up for me. Each log should yield 8 equal pieces, so I expect 32 by the end of the night. You can leave when you're done."

"And what is the point to this?"

"It'll teach you that you can't get everything just by whining about it to your dad. Also, my students need something to transmute in class. Get to work. Oh, and no magic. There should be an axe around here somewhere."

With that, Ed went back to his books, ignoring Draco's indignant expression. "Without magic? Are you insane?"

"I have a friend who does it with his fists. You'd rather do that?" asked the blonde professor, not looking up.

"My-"

"If you mention your father, it'll be two weeks."

The Slytherin, deciding he was resigned, picked up the axe. Then he realized something. "Professor, where's everyone else?"

Ed finally looked at him. Draco was taken aback by how gaunt and ashen he looked, seeming to be much older than his 16 years. This was really the boy who beat him up on the train?

"They're next door. I locked them in a room with a math problem. I decided chopping wood would be too easy for them. Didn't I tell you to get started?"

Grumbling about unfairness, Draco lifted the axe high and was almost thrown backwards by its weight. He tried again, bringing it down, but missing the wood entirely.

After a few more minutes of this, Ed cried, "Damnit, you can't even hold the axe right!" He jumped up and stormed over to Draco, looking extremely menacing, even for his height. He snatched the instrument from the platinum blonde's hands. "Make sure the wood's stable, see? If it falls, you're screwed. Hold the axe with both hands and raise it to just below your head, then let gravity do the work," Ed steamed, shoving the axe back into Draco's hands and turning to his books and coughing into his hand.

Draco tried to do as he was told, but it was so much work! He was tired by the second log. "Professor, can I-"

"Oh, suck it up!"

...

"Hermione?"

"What is it, Neville?"

The round faced boy stood nervously in front of her, not meeting the brunette's eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What's wrong?"

"I was, well, I uh-"

"Neville?"

"Do you know what could make someone cough up blood?"

Hermione froze. "What?" she asked, eyes wide. Neville cringed, and Hermione took pity on him. "Well, there's a variety of things. Internal injury and certain illnesses. But it's never anything good. Neville, if-"

"No, it's not me, don't worry."

Hermione frowned, and Neville clumsily lied, "It's just someone back home."

"Okay. I hope they're alright."

For the first time that night, Neville looked her in the eyes.

"I hope so too, Hermione. I hope so too."

...

The next day, Ed decided to teach the kids about human transmutation. After talking to Neville, he figured the Gryffindor wasn't the only one who was wondering about the subject. He didn't want any repeats of his and Al's mistakes.

"Human transmutation. The ultimate taboo of alchemy, and for good reason. Trying to turn someone into something else, or bring someone back from the dead.

"Life only flows in one direction: forward. Try to pull someone out of that cycle, and all it does is pull you in."

"What happens?"

"Some people have lost limbs, others, vital organs, but most people just lose their lives."

A hush fell over the class. "There is no way to replicate someone's soul. There is nothing in the world that can amount to a human's life. So a toll is taken for passing into God's, Truth's, All's - whatever you want to call it- domain.

"I knew some of you were thinking it, so that's just fair warning. No one can help you at the Gate. You're on your own. I can't stop you, though I doubt you'd be able to do it anyway."

Ignoring their stricken expressions, Ed said, "Alright, now take a piece of wood that Mr. Malfoy has so kindly chopped for us, and a piece of chalk."

Standing slowly and whispering amongst themselves, the students got their materials.

Draco, however, was not happy at being reminded of his humiliation. "What's the point of alchemy, then?" he asked loudly.

"What?" Ed said, sounding rather dangerous. Draco swallowed, but continued. "Well, we can do all the stuff you can do with your silly little science with transfiguration, plus more! We can turn people into other things!"

"We've been over this. Alchemy doesn't need a wand, and can be done anywhere. If someone takes your wand, or casts a spell that cancels out yours, you're helpless."

Malfoy knew he was beaten, but was too stubborn to accept it. "We can still do human magic! Watch!" he cried, whipping out his wand, and pointing it at an unsuspecting Lavender Brown. "Canis Sapiens!" the Slytherin yelled, and the Gryffindor squealed as she was turned into a dog.

But Draco had not yet mastered the spell, and she stopped halfway through the transfiguration, in a grotesque mixture of girl and beast.

Loud cries of anger from the Gryffindors mingled with the congratulatory shouts from Slytherin. The shouting was only silenced by the sound of a crash. The students turned to see their professor, golden eyes wide and misted over in memory, backed up against the wall. He hadn't even registered the noise of the box of wood falling to the floor.

"Professor Elric?" asked Hermione.

"N-Nina..." he whispered, sliding down to the floor.

"Sir?" asked Harry, stepping towards him. He jumped back as Ed began sobbing. Harry and Hermione walked to the young professor's side.

"I-I couldn't... I couldn't... do anything! She's... it's all my fault... oh God, Nina..." He turned his pleading eyes to Hermione. "Please, just kill me," he whispered. The only people close enough to hear were her and Harry, but it took the brunette's breath away. "Please, I don't deserve to live. Al... Please, just... I don't... just shoot me." Hermione didn't know how to respond. She'd never heard anyone sound so hopeless. Luckily, she didn't have to.

Professor McGonagall bustled in the room. "Is everyone alright? I heard a crash- Oh my goodness! Is that a student?" cried the irate professor when she caught sight of Lavender.

"Yes! Malfoy turned Lavender into a dog, or at least, tried to," said Harry, voice filled with venom. McGonagall quickly performed the countercurse. "Now, what happened?" she asked. She surveyed the students. They all seemed fine.

"Professor, did you..."

When she turned to Ed, she finally got her answer. "Why did she have to... Scar! I'll... Scar, you bastard!" The boy was obviously delirious, and McGonagall was reminded that he was only 16, a fact that was easy to forget.

"Edward?" she asked kindly, and his large eyes flitted to her. Minerva was taken aback by the amount of fear and hurt in them. The only time she had seen eyes like that was on seasoned veterans who couldn't take it anymore and had finally snapped.

But there was something else, something beyond the terror, the loss. A different kind of pain. "Edward?" she asked again. "It's all because of me that's she's dead, Al. If I was just there when he... ngh," he stopped, looking down as tears freefell down his unusually pale face.

"Levisomnis," Minerva muttered, and the golden haired youth fell asleep immediately. "Longbottom, get Madame Pomfrey. Do any of you know what happened?"

"Um, I'm not exactly sure what he was talking about, but Harry and I heard Professor Elric say some strange things before you arrived. Would that be of any help?"

"Yes, Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter, stay here. The rest of you, class is dismissed."

After all the kids had left, Ron waving to his friends on the way out, Minerva turned her sharp gaze on the two young Gryffindors. "Well?" she asked impatiently.

"Um, he was kept mentioning a girl named Nina, and about how it was all his fault."

"Yeah, and he called me Al a couple times, too."

"Anything else?"

"Well, he..."

"What is it, Granger? Spit it out."

Hermione looked up at McGonagall, looking as though she was about to cry. "He asked me to kill him, Professor. More than once. He said he 'didn't deserve to live.'"

Three gazes turned to the unconscious boy on the floor.

"I'm here, Minerva. What seems to be the problem?" said Madame Pomfrey, hurrying into the room with Neville right behind her.

"From what Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger have told me, it seems like Edward was suicidal a moment ago. I put him to sleep, but who knows what he'll be like when he wakes up?"

It looked like they didn't have to wait for long, as the young blonde sat up abruptly, looking around. "Whoa, whoa, Edward, calm down!"

"No, but... Nina!"

"Nina's fine, Professor," Hermione tried, but did not get the reaction she had hoped for.

"No! No! She's dead! I..." The sobbing returned, but it was more resigned this time, less desperate.

"Edward, do you know where you are?" Poppy asked.

Ed turned at the sound of her voice, then repeated in a monotone, "Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. London, England, Europe, Earth... not right, though. Where's Amestris?"

"Amestris?" Harry mouthed at Hermione, but she shook her head.

"I'm going to need you to come with me, Edward. Don't worry, now. It'll all be okay," said Madame Pomfrey soothingly, and he nodded, standing up shakily.

"Where's Alphonse?" he asked her quietly. Poppy didn't know how to respond, but didn't have to as he answered himself. "Don't be stupid, he's in Resembool."

She led him outside and to the hospital wing, where Ed fell asleep almost instantaneously, muttering to himself the whole way.

Minerva waited outside. "What's the verdict, Poppy?" she asked.

Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "There isn't much I can do for him. It seems to be more of a psychological problem than anything. I'm a nurse, not a counsellor."

"I'm worried about that boy," the Gryffindor head said, frowning. "You have good reason to. I haven't seen a breakdown of that magnitude for years. The last time was when student lost her entire family within a week."

"What do we know about him, anyway? In terms of his past?"

"Next to nothing. Just that he comes from a small town and has a brother."

Minerva set her jaw. "I'm going to see the headmaster," she proclaimed, turning down the hall with a swish of her robes. Giving the password to the gargoyle, she stepped up the stone stairs and into Dumbledore's office.

"Hello, Minerva. What seems to be the problem?"

"It's about Edward Elric, sir."

Dumbledore frowned. "What about him?"

"He just had a nervous breakdown in the middle of class. We have no idea why, except that Draco Malfoy tried to turn a girl into a dog beforehand."

The headmaster took this new information in, then looked up at the professor with a sad smile. "I'm afraid I cannot provide the help you seek." He sighed.

"I know as much about Edward Elric as you do."


	4. Chapter 4

Again, please enjoy and review!

Albus Dumbledore looked at the sleeping boy, a slight frown crossing his young face. He had been given a dreamless draught, but Albus wondered if it was really working. After all, everything magic they used on him was half as potent as it should be.

Dumbledore remembered when he found Edward. One of his contacts in Quedlinburg had sighted a boy with golden eyes in the library. Thinking "werewolf", Albus immediately apparated within the day. When he found him- it didn't take long, as the kid was right behind the library- Dumbledore was surprised to find that his detection spell had no effect, and while the boy did not seem to be a lycanthrope, he still had a strange signature... not wizard, but not quite muggle either.

He approached the enigmatic child, who looked up at him from the ground. "Can I help you?" the boy asked warily. "It depends," sighed the old wizard. "Does the phrase 'muggle' mean anything to you?" At his blank look, Dumbledore tried, "Voldemort?"

The kid burst out laughing. "Voldemort? What is that, death by mold?"

Albus frowned. It seemed as though he was not wizard born. Giving up for the time being, he resolved to keep an eye on the child, but turned to leave.

As he walked away, Albus heard the boy mutter something vaguely familiar in another language. "Was that Xingese?" he asked, turning around.

The kid's expressive eyes grew wide. "You speak Xing? Are you an alchemist? Did Mustang send you?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I am not an alchemist. I did know one a long while ago. I knew him as Nicholas Flamel, though he went by many other names. Van Hohenheim-" The boy flinched. "...I take it you've heard of him. Do you happen to know where he is?" Dumbledore asked. After the Philosopher's Stone was destroyed four years ago, Flamel had not, in fact, died. He had disappeared, and Albus hadn't seen him since.

"No. Honestly, I'm not exactly sure where I am."

Albus raised an eyebrow. "You're in Quedlinburg, Germany."

"Germany?"

"A country in Europe."

"What the hell is Europe?"

Albus's other eyebrow raised. "You don't know what Europe is?"

The boy sighed. "Do you know how to get to Dublith? I'm looking for Izumi Curtis." His face was passive, but his eyes were desperate, pleading for answers to questions Dumbledore was asking himself.

"My apologies. I don't know of a Dublith, or an Izumi Curtis." The child frowned deeply, looking more hopeless than anyone his age ever should. "I believe you have not given me your name."

"I'm Edward Elric. I gave you my name, now you give me yours. Equivalent exchange."

Dumbledore thought for a moment, then remembered where he had heard the phrase before: from Nicholas. "Equivalent exchange? That's the principle of alchemy...You're a practitioner of the magic, are you, Edward?"

The blonde in question looked practically scandalized. "Magic? Alchemy is a science! There's logic! Theories! It's not just some made up bullshit that ignorant people thought up to explain things they were too lazy to look into!"

Albus smiled.

"Wait, was that a test?" the boy asked.

"I take it you are an alchemist, then. Would you mind a demonstration? I can supply you with chalk, if-"

The boy clapped his hands together and pressed them to the ground. The asphalt melded itself into a suit of armor. "Now you tell me who you are," he demanded.

Speechless, Dumbledore examined the concrete armor. "My goodness..." he muttered. Straightening, Albus considered the boy. "How were you able to do that without a transmutation circle?" he asked.

The kid looked down, grasping his right arm. "I'm just... a really good alchemist," he said, half joking, but, once again, Albus picked up on the pain in his eyes. "Look, I've answered your questions. Are you going to answer mine or not?"

The old wizard chuckled. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I would like to offer you a position as our new alchemy professor."

Edward paused for a moment before giving the headmaster an incredulous look. "Let me get this straight: you're so deluded that you not only want a kid you just met to teach at your school, but you think that you're teaching magic? Magic?"

"I assure you, it exists. Equivalent exchange, eh? You showed me your power. It is only fair that I return the favor," Dumbledore said, waving his wand and causing the armor to move on its own. Edward's reaction was unexpected: he snatched the wand out of Albus's hand. "A conductor for alchemical reactions... but where's the transmutation circle?" he asked, spinning the wood between his fingers. Dumbledore took his wand back, a small grin on his face. "There is none. That is because it's not alchemy. It's-"

"Magic, I know, you said. I'm saying that's not true."

"You're not easily convinced, are you?"

"I'm not a dumbass, if that's what you're asking."

Smirking, Albus swished and flicked his wand. The concrete armor rose about two feet above the ground and stayed there.

Edward stumbled backwards. "This can't... It- it's impossible!" He waved a hand below the suit, then clapped his hands to the asphalt and created a concentrated block on which he stood. As Albus marveled at the ease of the transmutation, the boy tried putting his hand above it, but nothing happened. He shook his head, putting the ground back to normal.

"There's a scientific explanation behind this. I know it."

"At Hogwarts, we have a library twice the size of this one, and there are books on magical theory. As a professor, you would have full access to all of them," said Dumbledore, knowing that if that didn't convince the boy, nothing would.

Edward froze, then visibly deflated. "What the hell. It's not like I'm doing anything, anyway. Just know that I'm terrible at teaching," he said resignedly. Albus smiled once again. "Welcome, Professor Elric." The boy rolled his eyes, but looked slightly pleased. "So where is this fairy school of yours?"

"London, England. Another European country. Now, take my arm."

"Um, okay. Why-"

With a crack, they apparated right into the middle of the Leaky Cauldron. Barely anyone looked up as Edward fell into the room, coughing. "What the hell was that?" he asked, standing up. "Apparation. Also known as teleportation."

Dumbledore steered the bewildered blonde to a table, where Minerva McGonagall waited. "Who is this?" she asked when she caught sight of Ed.

"Minerva, meet Edward Elric. He has kindly agreed to become our alchemy professor."

"Professor? But... how old is he?"

"I'm sixteen," Ed put in, before she could make any assumptions.

"Minerva, in all my years, the only alchemist I have met of his caliber is Flamel."

"I find that hard to believe, sir."

Edward sighed. "Does no one use alchemy anymore?" he muttered, transmuting part of the table into a bird and back. Minerva gasped. "Magic... without a wand?" she asked.

"No, it's science. The closest thing to magic we'll ever get."

McGonagall looked to Dumbledore. "Is he a muggle?"

"What's a muggle?" Ed asked, curious. Minerva's eyes grew wide. "Albus, do you know how many ministry laws you are breaking by bringing him here? He doesn't know-"

"But he will learn. He's capable of magic, but has a mental block that's preventing him from believing in it, much less actually harnessing it."

"Um, I'm still here."

"Oh! That's right," said McGonagall, pulling out her wand. "Muffliato," she whispered, and Ed started. "Wha...?" he whispered.

"How do you know he doesn't work for You-Know-Who?" the professor asked Dumbledore. "He didn't know who Voldemort was. Minerva, that boy has the most expressive eyes I have ever seen. You can't fake some things. Also, he refuses to believe in magic. Voldemort wouldn't have much use for him. Honestly, this is an opportunity we can't afford to miss!" Albus said as Ed stuck a finger in his ear, trying to rid himself of the irritating buzzing he was hearing.

"He's a gifted alchemist. The last person I met with any alchemical knowledge at all could barely draw a transmutation circle, and that was thirty years ago! Also, he didn't know Nicholas Flamel, but he knew him by his real name, Van Hohenheim."

McGonagall froze. "Hohenheim?" she cried.

"Why are you guys so obsessed with that bastard?" came Ed's voice, and McGonagall jumped. "You can hear us?" she asked.

"It's not like you're being sneaky or anything," said the blonde, a little confused at her surprise. "Look, the only reason I agreed to this is the library. That's it. I don't care about Hohenheim, or Flamel, or whatever the hell his name is."

Minerva looked at Ed and was struck by the accuracy of Albus's description. His golden eyes were filled with fire and... pain? She found her doubt waning.

"You are correct, Mr. Elric. You shall be provided with room and board here at the Leaky Cauldron and a budget with which to buy books. I suggest you get reading. The school year is starting in less than a month. We will speak about your class later. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a hearing to get to."

With that, Dumbledore apparated away.

Looking back, Albus wished he had stayed. When he saw Ed again, it was strictly business. He knew hardly anything about the young professor, except the few things he had let slip, like mentioning his- nameless- little brother, or the fact that he came from a small country village, neither of which were very helpful.

Now, Dumbledore was sure there were more than a few skeletons in Edward's closet, especially when he saw his metal arm and leg. It seemed there was only one thing he could do to find out more about the youth's past, as he wasn't exactly eager to share.

There's probably good reason for that, Albus thought, and he sighed. He wished there was another way, but if he had suffered something so traumatic that it caused him to have a total mental breakdown, Albus had to know. Especially if it intertwined with Voldemort, and chances were, it probably did.

Frowning, Dumbledore pulled out his wand and said, "Legilimens."


	5. Chapter 5

The mind is a strange thing. Memories are connected by the thinnest of strands, hardly ever following the linear path of time. One thing leads to another, but every thought is connected. You cannot have the whole without the parts.

All is one, and one is all.

Dumbledore's glimpse of Edward's memories was brief and extremely confusing, but Albus would take what he could get.

The old professor had only seen a single memory, but it was undoubtedly the one that Edward himself was completely immersed in. A dark office, where a man with a psychopathic smile was propped up against the wall, bruises already forming on his bloody face.

"You're… just… like me…" he whispered.

To the right of him, a suit of armor looked at Ed while a white dog with a brown mane rubbed against it. "You said we would play…" it whimpered.

Edward's scream in the memory melded with the one in real life as Albus was thrown from the boy's mind with the power of a trained occlumens.

Poppy Pomfrey came rushing into the room. She whipped out her wand and yelled, "Tranquillum!"

Almost instantaneously, Edward's howling stopped, and he fell back slowly. Though his eyes were open, they displayed no emotion, so different from the eloquence Albus was used to. He supposed it was the calming spell.

"He wasn't supposed to wake up for another four hours!" cried the nurse.

"Well, I'm up now," said Ed. Dumbledore whirled around to see the young professor sitting up, leaning forward slightly. He winced, then coughed, hard. "Damnit, what the hell was that?" he whispered, and it took Albus a moment to realize the boy had practically lost his voice yelling.

Madame Pomfrey rushed to him, but the blonde waved her away. "I'm fine."

"Poppy, may I speak to Edward alone?"

"Sir! This boy has just-"

"No, it's okay," Ed croaked. Albus smiled. Tutting disapprovingly, but outclassed, Madame Pomfrey stalked out of the room.

Edward's gaze sluggishly turned back to the professor. "What…?" he asked, then seemed to be unable to continue. "I went inside your mind," said Dumbledore simply. Ed's eyes grew wide with panic. "What did you-?" he started, but instead began coughing.

"What did I see? You pushed me out before I saw much of anything aside from the memory of the dog in the office."

Edward blanched. "All… of it?" he breathed, his voice returning. "Yes, I am afraid so. Do you wish-"

"I gotta get back to class," the blonde interrupted, stumbling out of bed. "Professor Elric, your class was dismissed. Besides, you're in no condition to teach."

"Please," came Edward's strangled whisper. "Please don't make me… ngh."

Albus frowned, then nodded. "I shall respect your wishes."

"When can I go back to teaching?"

"As soon as you're up to it."

The blonde visibly relaxed. "I'll be back tomorrow," he said, and Dumbledore turned to leave. "Oh, and sir?"

The old man spun around to see Edward's blazing eyes glaring back at him.

"Never look in my head again."

…

Hermione was not pleased. Suffering through another one of Umbridge's abominable DADA lessons was even worse after Harry told her and Ron about what that toad was doing to him.

The bushy haired Gryffindor was astonished when she found out that, after the span of a single day absent from her schedule, alchemy classes were back on. She was even more surprised when she found that Ed was still the one teaching, rather than a substitute. Being the first to class- as always- Hermione walked up to Edward's desk. "Sir?" she asked. He looked up from his book absentmindedly.

"Hm?" he asked, eyes still half on the page. "Um, last class-"

Ed put up a hand. "Nothing happened last class."

Hermione nodded, sitting down in her seat just as Ron and Harry walked in. It seemed like they were discussing Quidditch, but neither boy was really all that excited about it. Harry flopped down unceremoniously next to her, rubbing his scar. She was struck by how similar his position was to Ed's.

Once everyone had arrived, Edward stood up. Before he could get a word out, however, Pansy Parkinson loudly asked, "Where's Draco?"

"Mr. Malfoy will not be joining us again."

None of the Gryffindor's smiles could be rivaled by Lavender Brown's.

The Slytherins were not so happy. "It's not Draco's fault you're afraid of a dog!" cried Blaise Zabini, and everyone froze, looking to their young professor. Ed turned to them, an interesting expression on his face. Sad, reminiscent. Somewhat angry. But mostly just hurt.

Ed sighed. He would never get over Nina. But he remembered when he and Al would play as children, and he'd get stuck on a branch, or a bush. If he tried to keep going, Ed'd get stuck, Al would catch him, and, most likely, his shirt would tear. No, he had to take a step back, unhook himself from whatever caught him, and only then would he be able to move on, despite the hole in his shirt.

"I've told you about human transmutation. What I didn't tell you was that I've got some firsthand experience with it." Ed took a shaky breath. They should know, really. There's no point in not telling them. "A long time ago, I met a man, a brilliant alchemist. He was the only person ever successful in making a talking chimera, a blend of two or more animals. At the time, we- my brother and I- were very interested in human transmutation and went to study at his home. This man, Shou Tucker, had a daughter. After researching, she would ask us to play with her and her dog. Her name was Nina."

Hermione gasped softly in recognition as the blonde alchemist shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they made it obvious that his impassive face was an illusion. "Tucker had… well, he was expected to make another talking chimera. And… he did. Turns out the first one was his wife. The second was his daughter. Shou Tucker combined his own daughter and her dog."

Edward's disposition cracked, and he winced, looking down. Hermione took note of his tight grip on the side of his desk. "Professor-" she started, but he cut her off.

"Both Nina and her father were murdered by a serial killer soon after, who later tried to do the same to me." Ed turned his emotion filled eyes to Zabini, whose face was white and horrified. "So I'm not afraid of a dog, and that's not why Malfoy was kicked out. It's because no one, especially the innocent, deserves to have that sort of depraved alchemy- magic- whatever- done to them."

Many kids, including Lavender, had tears in their eyes.

"I-"

"Shut up, Zabini. Just… don't say anything."

Ed turned to the blackboard and wrote out the assignment- list and draw every array I've taught you along with their properties- and went down the trapdoor to his room, leaving his students dumbfounded.

…

Edward practically fell down the ladder, his head spinning. When the tears started, he didn't even try to hold them back.

I'm being irrational I shouldn't care after all this time it shouldn't hurt why does it still hurt? There's nothing I could have done, couldn't save her, couldn't stop him, couldn't do anything, still can't do anything, can't change the past, why does it still hurt? he thought, but for some reason, Ed couldn't stop crying.

It didn't help anything when blood started pouring from his mouth.

The alchemist fell to the floor, staining his blonde hair red with a mixture of blood and tears, and stayed like that for a few moments.

Head pounding, Ed pushed himself from the floor into a sitting position. Checking his watch, he realized more than half an hour had passed, much longer than he had previously thought.

Standing up abruptly, Edward discovered that his hair was matted with dried blood, and he felt like death.

Filling the sink with water, Ed clapped his hands and cleaned the blood off. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and frowned. He still had some red splotches on his much too pale face, and was thinner than he had been in a while.

Deciding to ignore his own health- Ed was extremely adept at this- he hurried up the ladder. Ten minutes were left in class, but the 5th year class was surprisingly quiet. They looked up at his arrival, some of their gazes filled with so much concern, Edward gave them a small, tired smile.

He sat down at his desk, opening a book. It was strange. There were so many methods of transportation in the wizarding world, and yet none of them could bring him home.

…

That was it. Ed was going to murder Cornelius Fudge.

Umbitch had been given an even higher position to flaunt and abuse. "Hogwarts High Inquisitor". As if that haughty old hag's ego needed a boost.

And of course, she came to inspect his class on one of Ed's worst days. After suffering an especially terrible coughing fit that morning, the last thing he wanted to do was teach, much less have to put up with Umbridge.

"Hello, Professor Elric," she said, dripping with fake sweetness. Ed closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, then said with an equally false smile, "Morning, Professor Umbridge. What brings you here?"

"Did you not get my notice? I'm here to inspect your class."

Edward felt his eye twitch at her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice.

"Oh, right. Well, the students should be here in a few minutes, so…"

The alchemist went back to his desk. He still felt like hell, courtesy of Truth, and tried to block her out by reading a book. Sadly, not even words could drown out her little "Hem, hem," and Edward had to restrain himself from stabbing her. "What is it?"

"Well, Edward, I was wondering what you will be teaching your students today?"

"Alchemy. This is an alchemy class, after all."

"Yes, but-"

"Look, they didn't teach alchemy when you were here. I can guarantee I know more about it that you do."

"Well, that's hardly-"

"You'll see what we're doing when we do it, Dolores."

The toad of a woman huffed and scribbled something down on her clipboard.

When kids started filing in, Edward stood up. "Since we didn't get a chance to when I planned, today, we're going to try transmuting wood into dolls. So, take a block of wood and a piece of chalk."

The students complied, excited to finally perform the science they had learned so much about. "Now, draw the array for wood on it," said Ed, pointing to the transmutation circle he had drawn on the blackboard.

He went on, telling them what to do and explaining the formulas behind it. Umbridge was constantly writing on her little paper, searching for a flaw. Ed smiled smugly when he saw her frustrated expression.

Edward looked around the room, then fell back into his seat, watching his class.

"Hem, hem," came Umbridge's irritating cough. "Yes? What is it?" Ed growled. She gave a complacent grin. "Excuse me, Professor Elric, but what book are you using?"

"What?"

"None of your students seem to have a book. How are they supposed to learn without a guide? Did you deem books unimportant?"

The children whispered excitedly as they saw Ed's furious expression.

"The ministry-"

"What do you know?" Silence reigned at the alchemist's proclamation. To everyone's surprise, Ed began to laugh. He stood up. "Are you really trying to tell me how to teach my class? Tell me, Dolores, what is the main principle of alchemy? The three steps? Do you know how to draw a transmutation circle? Do you even know what that is?"

"Well, that's besides the point. I know-"

"No. No, you don't know anything. Nothing at all. Not about alchemy, not about teaching, and definitely not about me."

"Professor Elric!"

"What? Are you going to lecture me on something you know nothing about? Believe me, I know the importance of books-"

"Then why don't you-"

"Don't cut me off! Have you read anything on alchemy here? Everything is filled with inaccuracies! They think it's a magic!"

"It is a magic!"

All of the students froze. Harry had a broad smile on his face. He was loving this, Umbridge finally getting hers. And calling alchemy a magic was probably the worst thing you could say to Ed.

"That's just proof you don't know what you're talking about. Any alchemist knows that alchemy is the furthest thing from magic there is."

"Professor Elric, as the adult here, I think that I have the authority-"

"'As the adult here'? You think you've been through more than I have? Have you ever had to endure automail surgery? Have you ever looked death in the face and accepted it? Have you ever pulled a metal rod out of your stomach and still manage to seal it closed? Have you ever dug up the remains of your own mother, only to find it wasn't even her? Have you ever watched your friends become so twisted you don't even know them anymore? Have you watched everyone you know and love die? Have you?"

No one said a word, eyes transfixed on Edward. The blonde in question was breathing hard, his face filled with fury. Umbridge, however, had turned a pasty white. She didn't have anything to say.

"So don't act like you know more than me, Dolores. You might as well be a first year," said Ed, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Go back to your projects, kids," he muttered, eyes never leaving the DADA professor as he went back to his desk, coughing.

Ed knew he overdid it. Getting too upset was never good for him, especially combined with screaming. Trying to hold back the violent coughs in his chest, Edward shut his eyes.

Umbridge sensed her dismissal and left, practically in a trance.

Hermione went back to her block of wood, frowning. She agreed with everything that Ed had said, but exploding at Umbridge was definitely not good for his job. On the other hand, his hatred for Umbridge was obvious. Maybe he could help Harry teach them… if Harry ever agreed, that is.

All opinions aside, Hermione had noticed that Edward seemed to have forgotten about covering his past when he got angry, and she couldn't say she wasn't curious about some of the things he had said. What was automail, anyways?

I almost forgot! Happy Valentine's Day, the day to curl up with your special someone! Yeah, due to the fact that I have no life and am thirteen, that means my special someone is Netflix! Yay...


	6. Chapter 6

Alchemy classes were cancelled, and Hermione was worried. Had Umbridge gotten to Ed? Or… she remembered the blood she had seen by his desk and shuddered. Had he been arrested? Was he sick? Questions flew through her head so fast that it gave the Gryffindor a headache.

The one conclusion she could rule out was that Ed was a werewolf. After all, it explained so much: the blood, the eyes, the disposition, even his downtrodden appearance. In fact, she had been convinced that was the case, until she had seen him in plain view of a full moon.

Hermione had been walking back from the Great Hall. She was alone, and had reached the breezeway when she saw him. He was staring at the moon, a faraway look on his face. She wasn't sure if she should just keep walking, and stopped when Edward started to talk.

"I'm so sorry, Winry. I said I wouldn't make you cry again. Guess I'm just like my dad, leaving everyone. Tch. Bastard." A soft melancholy chuckle, then a wince. "Al must be furious, huh? He'll probably kill me if I die before I see him again. But I'll make it back to you. Both of you, Win. I promise."

With that, Ed started down the hallway Hermione was in. She gasped and ducked into an open doorway. As he passed, Hermione wondered if it was just a trick of the light, or if there really were tears on his face.

So werewolf was out. Still curious as to why classes were cancelled, Hermione decided to kill two birds with one stone, to find out about the abandoned classes and ask Ed to join them in their real DADA classes. She had finally convinced Harry to teach them, but she got the feeling that they could learn so much more from the young professor. And after seeing him explode on Professor Umbridge, Harry and Ron had agreed.

Hermione made her way to the alchemy classroom and knocked on the trapdoor.

"Is that you, Poppy? Gah, I told you, I'm fine," came Ed's voice, but it sounded strained.

"Um, Professor, I-"

"Damnit, I told you I'm fine!" Edward yelled.

"O-okay," stuttered Hermione. She frowned as she left, puzzling over her teacher's strange reaction. As she exited the room, she could have sworn she heard Ed coughing from downstairs.

Hermione ambled into the common room and sat herself down between Harry and Ron. "There's something weird about Professor Elric," she said.

…

Ed had a sinking suspicion he knew what was wrong with him, and if he was right, not even magic could save him now.

Edward had cancelled classes because so much as breathing hurt, let alone actually being productive. He had taken it too far the day before, when he blew up on Umbridge, and moving- which was pretty necessary for living- caused either coughing or throwing up blood.

The future for the next day didn't look exactly luminous either. Edward was going back to teaching, despite his abysmal health. If he took another day off, then Ed would be left alone with his thoughts, something he rarely enjoyed, especially not on the following day: October 3rd, the anniversary of when Ed and his brother burned their house to ashes.

But Edward knew the only he'd get through the day was if he had a distraction: namely, a class to teach. For now, Ed tried not to think about that terrible day, about Al, about Winry…

He missed those two terribly.

Wondering what they were doing now, Ed drifted into a fitful sleep.

…

He sat at his desk, bent over a book. Golden eyes scanned the page, searching, hoping, pleading for answers.

He knew he wasn't supposed to be there, not at this time of night, at least. They'd have his hide for this, but he couldn't just go back to sleep and forget about it, the idea he'd had ever since, but finally remembered the book he needed.

"Al?"

The boy looked up at his name, head swiveling. He relaxed when he saw who it was. "Hey Winry!" he said nervously, scratching the back of his head.

The blonde girl sighed. "Alphonse, everyone is worried sick about you! You know you're not supposed to go anywhere without a nurse! What if you collapsed again?"

"But I had an idea! I couldn't wait until morning!"

"An idea?"

Al went quiet. "To get brother back," he whispered. Winry froze. Edward was a touchy subject for both of them. Al was still searching for his brother, even after three months of fruitless searching. Winry moved to Central to be with Al during his recovery from being in the Gate for so long. She was still stuck on Edward, but forced herself to keep going, keep on living. It was what he would want.

Both teens missed him awfully.

"What did you think of, Al?"

The boy in question's head shot up. Winry was looking at the floor, eyes wet.

"Winry…"

"What is it? Can you get Edw-" she winced at his name, at the reminder of who she had lost. "Can you get him back?"

"I-I don't know."

Winry shut her eyes, like she had expected this, but it still hurt. She nodded once. "Okay, Al. Let's get you back to your room."

Al stood shakily, still weak from malnutrition, but much better than before.

As the two walked out of the library, Al suddenly broke the silence. "I want to see Mustang," he proclaimed.

"The general?" his companion asked in surprise.

"Yeah. I want to get his opinion on something. But I can't go alone," he said, turning his smile to Winry.

"Alphonse, you know he wants to help you, but…" At the boy's hopeful face, Winry smiled slightly. "Just don't ask him to do anything he can't. If you get him hurt, his girlfriend will kill you."

"Thanks, Winry!" Al shuddered. "But you're right. I really don't want to be on the receiving end of Hawkeye's gun."

…

"So, you think you know how to get Ed back, huh?"

Al nodded, fidgeting anxiously under Roy's gaze. "It's not exactly conventional, but it'd work."

Mustang smiled tiredly. "Let's hear it."

Taking a deep breath, Al rapidly said, "I could use human transmutation on myself and switch us out."

Silence reigned, until Mustang plainly said, "No."

"What?"

"No. You're not going to do that."

"But I-"

"Alphonse, I can guarantee that is the last thing your brother would want you to do."

The blonde glared at the general. "You have no idea-"

"Al, listen to me. Edward sacrificed himself for you. He did it so you could live. If you turned around and kill yourself in exchange, what do you think that would do to Ed? Did you think of that? It would kill him!"

"But this is killing me! Colonel- sorry, General, I can't do this without my brother. Ed is strong, much stronger than I am. He could make it without me!"

The general laughed morbidly. "Edward is stronger than you are? Didn't you ever see through that mask? He doesn't even think when you're gone. He gets desperate. Believe me, I've seen it. This exchange theory of yours? If it was Ed, that would have been the first thing he did, and he definitely wouldn't have asked me about it. If you sacrifice yourself, you won't get Ed back. He'll be dead the moment he realizes what you did."

Al froze. He had thought of this, had processed it, and had utterly disregarded it, saying that Ed would be surrounded by people he loved, he would be fine. But the truth of the situation was that he wouldn't be fine. Neither of them would be, not without each other.

"And besides, what's the probability that your theory would even work? We have no idea where your brother is. He might still be in this world."

The boy ducked his head. "I guess you're right," he muttered quietly.

"Keep looking, Al. You'll find him the right way."

"But what is the right way?"

Roy sighed, looking away. "You're going to have to find that out too." He turned back to Al. "Keep me updated. And don't do anything rash."

The boy nodded. "Thanks, General," he said, then walked out the door.

...And straight into a wrench. Alphonse fell to the floor, ears ringing.

"YOU MORON!"

Al's eyes grew wide when it all fell into place. "W-Winry?"

"YOU WERE GOING TO SACRIFICE YOURSELF?"

"Well, I was thinking about it, but not anymo-"

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THAT WOULD DO TO EVERYONE? TO ED? TO ME? I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!"

"Look, um, Winry, I-"

"DON'T YOU EVER EVEN THINK ABOUT IT AGAIN!"

Winry's anger seemed to dissipate, and she sunk to her knees next to Al. "I can't lose both of you," she whispered.

"Winry… I'm gonna get Ed back."

The girl flinched at her absent friend's name. "You better. Just… not like that. Never like that." Winry swiped at her eyes furiously. "Let's go," she said, standing up. "I'm not letting you out of my sight now. You're not giving yourself up on my watch."

The pair ignored the strange looks they got as they left the building, nodding at Riza on their way out.

They didn't notice the woman in the hall. She slipped inside, frowning at the people she passed. When anyone made eye contact, they jumped at the intense glare she gave them. The woman stalked her way into General Mustang's office, slamming the door behind her with a toss of her black dreadlocks.

"What?" she growled at an amused-looking Roy. "You called me down here, I came."

"Yes, I see that." His face grew serious. "It's about Ed."

The woman stopped abruptly, animosity disappearing. "What about him?"

"I've got a lead."

At his words, the woman sat down across from the general. "Go on."

Roy sighed. "It might not go anywhere. Don't get your hopes up."

"I don't care. What is it?"

"I didn't tell Alphonse. He'd be devastated if it didn't work out."

"Mustang, you dragged me all the way out from Dublith. What is it?"

"You're going to have to travel even further if this pans out."

The woman looked positively murderous. "Stop dancing around and tell me!"

"I have received word of a strange glowing in the ruins of Xerxes. Who knows if there's any connection, but it only started after Fullmetal… After Ed sacrificed himself."

The woman took in this information, then nodded. "Okay. When are we leaving?"

"I was planning on going next week. It only seems to flare up every few days."

"I'm coming with you."

Roy smiled. "I knew you would say that, Izumi."

…

Al hated this room. He had spent the past three months staring at its off-white walls, wishing he was somewhere, anywhere else. After all, he had a brother to save. He couldn't exactly do that when he was stuck in a hospital room with an IV stuck in his hand.

Even now, though he had gained a small amount of freedom, Al still had to remain on military grounds, be it the military hospital or the library, and he couldn't go anywhere without a nurse. A nosy nurse. One who looked over his shoulder and asked about what he was doing every four seconds.

At least, until they finally deemed Winry trustworthy enough to take him places.

Now he was back in his room, his velvet handcuffs, his prison, his sanctuary. Al felt the corners of his mouth twitch when he realized how poetic his time in this place had made him.

"What?" Winry asked. She was seated in a plastic chair near his bedside, glaring daggers. She was still unhappy with him for considering his theory.

"Nothing. I'm just thinking back."

She clicked her tongue and shook her blonde head.

The nurse walked inside, a smile so bright it practically hurt his eyes. She was carrying a tray of food. "Hello, Alphonse!" she cried. Al rolled his eyes, but then he caught sight of Winry. She was staring at the tray, and looked about ready to cry.

Confused, Al followed her gaze and realized the problem.

Milk.

Winry promptly stood up and mumbled, "Excuse me," before running off.

"Winry!" Al yelled after her, but the irritating nurse held him back.

"Now, now, Alphonse. Don't strain yourself."

Al fell back, resigned. He just hoped that Winry would be okay.

…

Winry was not okay. As much as she hated to admit, she wouldn't be okay until he was back.

Leaning against the wall of her apartment, Winry cried softly. It was stupid, really. Something he hated so much bringing tears to her eyes. She couldn't even hear his name without a stab of pain piercing her heart, let alone say it. But he-no, Ed, wouldn't want that. He would want her to carry on without him, to just keep walking.

I'm sorry, Ed, she thought, but I can't move on.

Shaking her head at herself, Winry laughed in wonder.

Because… Why not face the music?

I love you, Edward Elric.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry had seen Ed in many different lights. From angry, to nervous, to afraid, to hopeless, to friendly, and to angry all over again. But not once had the Boy Who Lived seen his professor so… apathetic. Even when he was depressed, he dove all in.

It was almost the end of class. Hermione and Neville- surprisingly- had both been able to transmute their wood into small dolls, and Edward had just given them small smiles.

Even worse, when Pansy Parkinson began to loudly discuss her classmates' heritage and sincerity, specifically, Hermione and Harry's, Ed didn't even bat an eye.

This was extremely out of character for him. Normally, anything could get the blonde riled up. But on that day, he was listless. It was as though Edward wasn't even there.

Hermione was worried. She always seemed to be worried about Ed nowadays, and had good reason to be. When he wasn't busy being serious, he was hacking up a lung, or getting so sucked into whatever it was he was working on, he didn't acknowledge them at all.

At least Umbridge had stopped trying to ask him questions. She got her head bit off every time she even looked Ed's way. Even that morning, Edward had snapped out of his trance long enough to shoot her a glare.

Speaking of the toad, Professor Umbridge had seemed especially happy lately. Harry could only hope she hadn't heard about their plans to start a new DADA class. Then again, she couldn't exactly persecute them for something they hadn't even done yet.

Harry still wasn't sure how he felt about teaching. He still didn't think anyone would listen to him, but he had to try. No one could get anything out of Umbridge's lessons, it was impossible to learn from only a book, and a prejudiced book at that.

Edward suddenly shook his head and looked back at the class, confused. "A-Al?" he whispered, eyes glazed. Then he jumped. Ed pulled out the silver watch Harry had seen him with on the train and checked it. "Oh, you can go," he declared.

The students gathered their things and placed their half-formed blocks in a box. Harry joined Ron and Hermione in leaving.

They had been let out half an hour early.

…

Dolores hadn't been this excited since she had almost gotten Harry Potter expelled. She gripped the tiny bottle in her pudgy hand, rings clinking against the glass.

The Minister of Magic was wrapped around her stubby little finger, and he had given her the warrant without question. And if Severus had felt any animosity at giving the potion to her, he hadn't shown it.

Now it was in her grasp, the key to all of little Edward's secrets. Veritaserum.

After all, what kind of a High Inquisitor would she be if she didn't even know where her staff was from?

Getting Ed to comply was the least of her worries. She already knew he wouldn't take anything she gave him. That was where the warrant came in. Dolores had been given permission to force the stuff down his throat if it came to that.

She knew it had come to that.

He was waiting in her office. Dolores had no doubt that he was destroying it as she walked, but was too excited to care.

"Hello, Edward!" she cried, walking into her pink room. The boy, who had been sitting across from her desk, nearly fell out of his chair. Rushing to his feet, he asked, "What?" . It was Umbridge's turn for shock. He hadn't snapped, for once. He had only asked.

Dolores considered the blonde for a moment. He looked unkempt, unhealthy, unfocused, and a multitude of other "un"s. It almost made her feel bad about what she was about to do.

Almost.

"Have a seat."

"I'm fine standing."

Umbridge rose an eyebrow. "Really? Well then. I suppose you're wondering why I asked you to meet me here."

"Actually, I was more curious about when I can leave this pink hell."

She let that slide, especially because Ed's heart was obviously not in the insult. He was too preoccupied with not looking at the kitten pictures on the walls.

Dolores, deciding that now was as good a time as any, pulled out her wand. "We both know you've been… well, less than forthcoming about yourself."

"Um, yeah. I don't really see…"

"Allow me to loosen your tongue."

With that, she flicked her wand. Ed's golden eyes cleared and grew wide as a clear liquid flew into his mouth. He coughed and sputtered, but Dolores just smiled. With another wand wave, he was forced into the chair, looking positively terrified now. Looking his age.

"That's a good boy. Now, tell me. Where are you from?"

"Resembool," he said in a monotone, then a look of confusion crossed his face as he realized his voice had betrayed him.

"I'm afraid I haven't heard of that place. Where is it?"

"Southeastern Amestris."

Umbridge frowned. Veritaserum made you tell the truth, but neither of those places were familiar at all.

"Is Edward Elric your real name?"

"Yes. Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist."

"Fullmetal? What does that mean?"

"A state issued name for a state alchemist."

"What is a state alchemist?"

"An alchemist who works for the military of Amestris."

This was getting her nowhere. "Are you a werewolf?" She had been assured this wasn't the case, but you never knew with those filthy halfbreeds…

"No."

Dolores let out a relieved sigh. Now she could sleep a little safer. "Who are your parents? Are they of magical blood?"

"Trisha Elric and Van Hoenheim, both muggles."

Neither of those names caused a spark of recognition, and Dolores soldiered on. "Are you teaching the students of Hogwarts anything other than alchemy?"

"No."

"Why do I never see you eating?"

"I rarely do."

"And why is that?"

Ed started to say something, but to Umbridge's surprise, he stopped, gritting his teeth and trying to hold back his answer. It was a good ten seconds before he choked out, "Because of the Toll that... Truth… took when I- I got my brother's body back."

Dolores was alarmed. A drop of this potion was supposed to work for three hours, at least, and she had used more than half the bottle.

"Who is this 'Truth'?"

"God."

"What was the 'Toll'?"

Edward was truly fighting it now, a drop of sweat making its way down his all-too-pale face. "I don't… know."

"Then how do you know it was taken?"

"Because… I…"

The kid screamed, pushing against her binding spell and bringing his right hand to his mouth, biting down to keep himself from saying anything.

"Well, this is quite a development," she muttered, not happy. How had he managed to deter the potion? Seeing that Edward was not going to tell her anything more, Dolores raised her wand. "Obliviate," she said through pursed lips.

The blonde froze. He stopped screaming and pulled his hand out of his mouth, looking bewildered. "Um, you wanted to see me?" Edward asked, having lost his memory of the past ten minutes.

"Yes, I wanted to let you know that I will be conducting another inspection in a week."

"You didn't have to drag me to this pink hell, you know. A note would have been just fine."

Dolores smirked at his reiteration of his opinion of her office. Of course, he wouldn't remember already having said that.

"What are you grinning about?"

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to make sure you got the message. You may go now."

Ed, looking a little unsettled and dazed, stood to leave, but stopped in the doorway with wide eyes. "Is everything alright?" asked Umbridge.

The boy brought a hand to his face. He nodded without turning around. "F-Fine."

Dolores allowed herself a self-satisfied smile as she watched Edward leave. She may not have gained as much information as she had hoped, but she definitely had gotten something.

Leverage.

…

Ed walked down the deserted hallway. He had no idea why there was blood pouring from his mouth. After all, he hadn't done anything terribly strenuous. Right?

The professor faltered. It felt like he was trying to remember something that just wasn't there. Like when he was reaching for a book on the top shelf, but just couldn't get it. Ed frowned. He had much more experience with being unable to get to books than he liked to admit.

Luckily, the bleeding wasn't as bad as it could have been. Ed had dealt with much worse. He swiped a hand across his face, then noticed something that made him pause. His white-and-red glove had two large holes in it, almost like something had bit into and torn the cloth, or slashed it with a serrated knife. A strange sense of deja vu caught Ed off guard and increased his headache tenfold.

Edward shook his head and stepped into his office, but was startled to discover he wasn't alone. Hermione Granger was waiting for him, pacing nervously. When the girl noticed Ed, she jumped.

"Um, can I help you?"

"Yes. Maybe. Well, I don't know. Um, it…" Hermione stopped her rambling. Edward chuckled slightly, trying not to cough. He didn't need anyone else knowing about his little problem. Neville was enough.

"What is it?"

Hermione hesitated. "I know you hate Professor Umbridge as much as the rest of us do."

Ed snorted. "That bitch? S'it even possible to like her?"

The Gryffindor bit back a grin. "Do you know how she teaches her lessons? She doesn't let us perform any magic. We're only allowed to read a biased book."

"Sounds like her. What about it?"

Taking a deep breath, she said, "We don't think this is an adequate education. I've convinced Harry- Harry Potter, I mean- to teach us how to defend ourselves. But what you said in your classes, about using wands… you were obviously correct."

Frowning, Ed asked, "What are you getting at?" He already knew the answer.

Hermione looked up at him. "We want you to teach us alchemy, but not just in lessons, not just the education approved things. Teach us how to use it to fight. Because if we lose our wands, we're really just kids. Without a source of magic, we're just teenagers against adults. V-Voldemort isn't going to wait for us to get back our wands, he won't hesitate. We need another method, an advantage. Something he won't see coming."

Edward considered the wide-eyed girl in front of him. She was breathing heavily, expression pleading. He smiled, an eyebrow cocked. "So, is this 'class' of yours legal?"

She froze. Looking down, Hermione mumbled, "Well, not exactly."

The professor laughed. "When do I start?"

Hermione's head shot up, face filled with hope. "You don't mind?"

"Anything that goes against the Umbitch is perfectly fine with me."

The Gryffindor smiled. "I'll let you know when we meet," she said, exiting the room brightly.

As soon as Hermione was gone, Edward collapsed into his desk chair. He looked at his research, papers strewn across the wooden surface. For the first time in a long while, Ed found himself not wanting to work on it. He didn't feel like doing anything at all.

Ed sighed. It was all because of the day, just damn October 3rd. It came around every year, but this time, unlike last year, Al wasn't here. Or Winry. Not even Mustang.

He knew this was idiotic, not working to get back to the people he wanted- no, needed, to get back to. But Ed couldn't bring himself to pick up his pen, open that book.

Tomorrow, he thought, everything will be okay. But Ed wasn't stupid. He knew that something as simple as a day's end wouldn't solve everything, but it was all he had at the moment.

With that bitter thought on his mind, Edward drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

"Alchemy in combat is much like what I've already taught you. The only differences are the resources and the speed you have to react at."

Edward paced the front of the Room of Requirement as the DA members watched. "The most common thing you'll have to work with is concrete. It's mostly made up of calcium, silicon, aluminum, oxygen, water, and iron. This is the transmutation circle for it. I want you to practice drawing it as fast as you can. Speed is incredibly important."

Of course, the one kid in the army who Ed didn't like had to speak up. "Speed drawing? I was under the impression we were going to actually be learning something," drawled Zacharias Smith.

"This is a new transmutation circle. Isn't that learning? Oh, and you can't use chalk or magic. You have to find a way to draw it without either. You're learning this purpose of alchemy because if you lose your wand, you're screwed. I'm pretty sure that if you're without a wand, you won't have a writing utensil on hand, either."

Ed was pleasantly surprised to find that the only person who was unhappy about this new development was Smith.

Twenty minutes later, Neville gasped. A bright blue light was coming from his corner of the room as the alchemical array he had drawn in the dust was activated.

"Nice job, Neville!" cried Ed, examining the newly formed statue. It looked to be some sort of cactus.

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," said the Gryffindor proudly.

Another hour later, many more kids had been able to transmute the floor, and both Hermione, Neville, and Harry were able to do it in less than five minutes.

Ed had spoken to Hermione, and they both agreed that he only attend certain meetings, in which he would teach relatively short lessons on practical alchemy. After all, he barely even believed in magic, and what use were Harry's lessons to him?

"Professor?" a small voice asked, and Ed turned to see Neville. Normally, he liked the kid. He worked hard, and had a knack for alchemy. Reminded him a lot of Al, actually.

But now, Neville was the last person he wanted to see. The round faced boy was the only one who knew about his little… problem. He was also the only one who would tell anyone about it. 'If I see you getting worse,' he had said.

It was obvious that was the case. It was November first, and Ed had woken up every morning that week with a bloody nose and the taste of iron in his mouth.

Well, shit.

"What's up, Neville?"

"I was just wondering when you'll be teaching again."

Ed hid a smile. "I dunno. Whenever I'm asked."

Neville brightened. "Um, sir, about-"

"I'm fine. Don't worry. Now go away, the seventh years should be here any minute."

The Gryffindor nodded and ran off.

...

"This is the simplest transmutation circle for metal. They range in complexity, for more dense and high quality metals, but this can be used on iron. The particles in metal differ from wood, considering..."

Edward continued his lecture, not paying much attention to his words. He was trying not to look at Umbridge. For some reason, seeing so much as her cardigan made his head pound. Umbitch literally gave him a headache.

He'd been having a strange problem for the two weeks. Ed would let his mind wander, and then be struck with a feeling of deja vu, leaving him dizzy and confused. Edward would have just attributed it to the toll that Truth had taken, if it wasn't for the fact that looking at Dolores didn't just make his head hurt. Her smug face left him with another feeling, one he hated even more than the demented god that stuck him here.

Fear.

This puzzled the young professor. He'd never been scared of that old toad before. Never had much of a reason to be, anyways. But in the last few days, she'd terrified him to no end.

"... that's about all you need to know before you start, so take a cube and begin."

Ed's seventh year students stood to get their materials.

This inspection was going much better than the last, at least. Ed hadn't lost his temper once, and Umbridge seemed much less adamant about his need for a book.

"Well, Professor Elric. You seem to be doing well."

At her voice, he felt his pulse quicken, not understanding why. It frustrated him beyond belief.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

He could hear the smirk in her tone. "Oh, I just thought the toll might be getting to you."

Ed froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins. Golden eyes grew wide, cold sweat breaking out across his neck. "W-what did you say?"

"You know, the toll. Are you sure you're alright, Edward?"

Ed wasn't alright. How did she know? No one knew, not even Dumbledore. He'd been sure of that. A pounding behind his left eye signaled the beginnings of a migraine. He ducked his head. The weird deja vu feeling hit him again, and suddenly, Umbridge's voice echoed through his head.

"What was the 'Toll'?"

Shaking, Edward looked up at his class. The only student who seemed to have noticed something was amiss was Katie Bell, who was shooting him a concerned look.

The blonde turned his wide eyes back to Umbridge, who was innocently smiling, but she couldn't hide that triumphant look. "I-I gotta go," said Ed. With that, he took off, running away from that classroom, from her, ignoring the confused glances his students were giving him. He didn't care. All Edward knew was that he had to get out of there as fast as possible.

"Professor!"

A girl's voice snapped him out of his trance, and he whirled around, heart still racing.

"What's going on?"

Hermione.

"I… nothing. Nothing at all."

Ed turned back, ignoring the girl's confused shouts.

Edward reached an empty classroom and collapsed against a wall, sliding to the floor. He tried to steady his all-too-quick breaths. Once Ed achieved that, he became aware of the horrific pain in his head.

The blonde grit his teeth and folded into himself, hating the tears falling down his face, but unable to stop them. Despite there being no blood pouring from his mouth, Edward still felt like he was dying.

Ed was definitely coherent enough to appreciate the irony.

He clasped his hands around his neck, face buried in his knees as that voice, that voice played through his mind.

Allow me to loosen your tongue.

"No. Please, no," he breathed, trying to shut it out, but it was no use.

That's a good boy. Now tell me…

"Don't..."

What was the Toll?

"I can't… I can't've said..."

Then how do you know it was taken?

"No, NO, how did she… ngh!"

Obliviate.

The pain peaked, and Ed bit back a scream. It had all come back to him, now. He finally understood his terror at seeing Umbridge, how she knew.

Ed had no idea how long he stayed there. At some point, his eyes opened. The room was dark, it was nighttime. He'd missed two classes, three if you counted the one he ran out on. Umbridge must have taught them, and Edward shuddered at the thought of that toad masquerading as a woman.

It wasn't so much what she had learned, but how she had done it, Ed thought as he stumbled his way back to his office. Somehow, Umbridge was able to make him betray himself, give up things that Ed never wanted to. If there was one thing Ed hated, it was being helpless. Too many people had been hurt without him being able to do anything about it.

He was never a go-with-the-flow kind of person.

So this feeling of someone having complete control over him wasn't exactly something he was jumping for joy about.

Edward looked down at the research splayed across his desk. Did she know about that, too? Were there other things he forgot?

"Running out on your students?"

Ed jumped to his feet unsteadily. The sweet-as-poison voice was no longer in his head. "Professor Umbridge," he said, pleased to find that while the fear was still there, it had been largely replaced by anger.

"Elric. You skipped your classes. That will not go unnoticed."

"And you forced me to tell you what you wanted, then tried to make me forget. Did you really think that would go unnoticed?"

Her doughy face turned a blotchy purple. "I-I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, don't you dare play dumb with me. You know, in alchemy, there's this idea, Equivalent Exchange. You can't get without giving. I think you've gotten quite enough. It's only fair that you give something in return, don't you think Dolores."

It pleased Ed beyond belief that she looked scared of him now.

"It- it is my right as Hogwarts High Inquisitor to- to know everything about my st-staff!"

"And it's my right as a person to be able to keep secrets. I don't doubt you've got a few of your own."

She blanched.

"What? I'm not going to hurt you. Unlike you, I have these things called 'morals'."

Umbridge's attempts at hiding her relief failed. "Well, I have things to do. Be sure that you are back to teaching tomorrow."

With that, she turned on her heel and left.

"Oh, and one more thing."

The woman froze, looking back at Ed.

Cold golden eyes met hers. "I don't forget, Dolores."

…

Cornelius Fudge watched the woman in front of him pacing a hole in the floor of his office.

"...no respect for authority… seemingly immune to magic… won't even answer simple questions… probably teaching the kids all manners of terrible things… from some place I've never even heard of… part of the army- must be a spy!"

She stopped abruptly. "Minister, do I have your permission to eradicate Edward Elric from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Frowning, Cornelius racked his brains. "That is the… alchemy teacher, am I correct? The child who you've been trying to get through to?"

Umbridge nodded tersely. "I have reason to believe that he is a foreign spy, employed by Albus Dumbledore in order to overthrow the Ministry of Magic."

This got Fudge's attention. "And why is that?"

"Edward Elric told me himself, while under the influence of veritaserum- it was necessary, I'm afraid- that he worked for the military of a place called 'Amestris' where he is a 'State Alchemist.' I have no doubt that he is a mercenary."

"Amestris? Where is that?"

"I am not sure, Minister."

"Hm." Cornelius thought for a moment. Now that Sirius Black was on the loose, you never knew what sort of hell he was raising, or, more specifically, what form it was in. But an idea occurred to him. "Dolores, I don't want him sacked."

The pink-clad woman jumped, her already bulbous eyes growing in size. "But- but Minister, he could be a serious threat-" she stopped at Fudge's raised hand.

"I understand that. I want you to have someone tail him, someone you can trust. Maybe then we can find out exactly what dear Albus is plotting behind my back…"

Umbridge's once scandalized expression turned gleeful. "Ah, I see." She straightened to her full height- four foot seven- importantly.

"Do not worry, Minister. I shall not let you down."


	9. Chapter 9

"I have an important job for you, Argus."

Filch straightened. He looked extremely out of place in Umbridge's spotless pink office.

"I want you to keep an eye on 'Professor' Elric."

That surprised the caretaker. "A Professor?"

Umbridge rolled her bulging eyes. "Only in title, my dear Mr. Filch. He is, after all, a child, and if he is corrupting the students as I suspect... I am looking forward to using my new privileges as High Inquisitor."

Filch grinned. "And I'll get my decree? To bring back the old punishments?"

Dolores winked. "The old ways are the good ways, Argus."

"I'm honored, ma'am."

"Well," started the pink-clad woman, "It's only a temporary position. I have someone else coming whose skills are better suited to the task. But in the meantime…"

Filch showed off his yellowed teeth.

"...I am putting my trust in you, Argus."

…

Theories of parallel worlds have been discussed for centuries, but modern magic still has a ways to go before we are able to dimension travel. On a similar note, time travel has been…

Edward snapped the book shut, growling in discontent. He'd finally stooped so low as to look in the books about magic in the library. Magic.

Ed was that desperate.

It was not long before the alchemist opened the pages again. He had nothing else to hallway was empty, but that didn't matter much. Over the past few days, he had become an expert at walking and reading simultaneously.

Ed ripped through the book furiously, knowing he'd come up empty handed again. Finding so much as a mention of other worlds was extremely rare, and Ed had looked through this particular book so many times, he practically had it memorized. Reminiscing about researching through Sheska, Edward refocused on the words, only to lose concentration-again- to the feeling of being watched.

Golden eyes scanned the deserted hallway. It didn't take long for Ed to identify the source of his unease. Argus Filch, not-so-stealthily hidden behind a suit of armor. Edward stifled a laugh. He turned a corner, then clapped his hands together and pressed them to the wall. The stone elongated into another, albeit thinner, barrier.

Snickering, the alchemist stepped into his office.

…

Filch was confused. Had that wall been there a moment ago? And where was the Elric brat?

…

After spending months away, Rubeus Hagrid had finally returned to Hogwarts, and it seemed the school had changed quite a bit from when he left. For one thing, the ministry-induced arrival of Dolores Umbridge.

He definitely did not like her.

She barged into his hut, prodding for information and searching for Harry, Ron and Hermione- who were hidden underneath the invisibility cloak. They had come down to speak with him when they were interrupted by a toad in a cardigan.

With a final indirect threat, Umbridge left, snapping the door shut behind her.

"Blimey… inspectin' people, is she?" Hagrid asked in a low voice.

"Yeah. Trelawney's on probation already, and Ed's not far off…" said Harry, pulling off the cloak.

"Ed?"

Ron smiled. "Oh, you haven't met him yet? He's the new alchemy teacher. Strange bloke, but he's alright."

Harry joined in. "Yeah, and Umbridge hates him almost as much as he hates her."

"Just don't call him short," said Hermione.

All three students shuddered.

It wasn't long before they had to leave. With Hermione erasing their footprints behind them, the trio whispered amongst themselves about Hagrid.

"I don't care if she throws out Trelawney, but she's not taking… Hagrid… Um…" Hermione's indignation melted to confusion as she watched Edward race down the hall with a huge grin on his face. "Dumbass," the blonde muttered as he flew past the invisible students.

"What was that all-?" Harry was shushed when Ron caught sight of Filch limping after Ed.

The caretaker disappeared from view, but they saw him soon afterwards as he raged at a wall that had most certainly not been there before.

"Did Ed…?"

"Probably. The real question is, why is Filch after him?"

…

"Professor, I have a question about yesterday's lesson."

"Yeah? What is it, Neville?"

"Well, does it count as human transmutation if-"

"Hold on. That's Filch's cat, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Hm. My brother loves cats."

"Oh, uh…"

"I can't say the same. Here, kitty. Go back to your owner, now."

"Professor!"

"Wow! That must have been ten feet! Haven't lost my touch after all!"

"Filch'll kill you if he finds out!"

"Then he won't find out. I don't think anyone else will mind me kicking that thing."

"Yeah, but…"

"What were you asking again?"

…

That was not the last time anyone noticed Ed avoiding Filch, in fact, it was as if he was flaunting his ability to lose the old man. Random walls appeared throughout the school- they were easily taken down with magic- as did closets, doors, holes in walls, and other strange methods the alchemist used to escape the caretaker throughout the month.

No one knew why it was happening, but most students found it immensely entertaining, and Fred and George Weasley took a new interest in alchemy when they saw how the science could be used.

By the end of the month, Filch had absolutely nothing new to report to Umbridge aside from Edward's aversion abilities.

"That's quite alright, Argus."

Filch looked up in surprise. This was not the reaction he had expected from the High Inquisitor when he told her of his lack of information.

"Your replacement has finally arrived, so I no longer need you to tail our young Mr. Elric."

Filch breathed a sigh of relief. "Will I still get my decree?"

Umbridge put a finger to her chin in mock consideration. "Let me think… well, that all depends on you, doesn't it? Work extra hard, and your whips will be reinstated in no time!"

Grinning, the caretaker left the room.

Once she was sure he had left, Dolores took a wide, thin package from behind a cupboard.

She picked up a pink letter opener in the shape of a cat's tail, then pushed it through the brown packaging.

Umbridge pulled off the paper neatly, then smiled at the portrait. It was a man, his thin eyebrows accentuating clever eyes. A black, pointed beard adorned his frowning face.

A grotesque smile spread across Umbridge's face.

"Hello, Phineas."

…

Filch had stopped following him, and Ed had to say, he was a bit disappointed. It had gotten to be quite entertaining. The caretaker was so obvious, at least to Edward's trained eye, that avoiding him was something of a game to the young alchemist.

At the same time, he was relieved. All this evasion was not exactly the best thing for his wavering health.

It was winter break. Classes were cancelled, and Ed was planning on devoting his time to researching alternate dimensions- or rather, his own home.

He spent a large amount of time in the library, and so far, the only thing he had learned that was of use was which authors to stay away from.

It was extremely irritating to find a promising book, only to discover it was written by Rita Skeeter, or Gilderoy Lockheart. He still had yet to find a book with more than just vague mentions of magical advancement, but Ed was determined to keep looking.

After all, what else could he do?

It was the first day of the winter break when he felt it. That strange feeling of somebody watching him. Edward looked up, amused that Filch was still trying to spy on him, then confused when the caretaker was nowhere to be found. The library was devoid of all life, aside from Madame Pince and the few paintings hidden among the shelves.

Edward tried to shake it off, thinking it was probably just the librarian shooting him an angry glare for turning pages too loudly or something ridiculous like that. But the eerie sensation stuck with him, and the alchemist found himself scouring the room once again in search of the source.

Hypersensitive to being watched, Ed hated that feeling. He had been a fugitive, a target too many times not to mind.

Any attempts at returning to his studies were futile, as Ed's normally deep concentration was interrupted again and again. Sighing, the blonde stood and gathered his books. "Damn," he whispered, hoping whoever it was would be gone tomorrow.

To his disbelief, Edward was dogged by unseen eyes even in his office. It was beginning to unnerve him.

This invisible spy followed Ed throughout the entire castle. The only place he found solace was a room of his own making, created by putting a cubical hole in a wall.

Sadly, as Ed had to leave a large hole in the wall in order to let air in, Umbridge found out about his little hideout. She was furious about the "destruction of school property" and demanded he put the wall right. Edward would have argued if it weren't for the fact that this spot was less than ideal- light was extremely sparse- and it terrified Umbitch when he was compliant. She found it disconcerting.

It didn't take long for Edward to regret that decision.

He could have made another room, but now Umbridge was on the lookout, and besides, that would nullify any disturbance he had caused her.

Another chill ran down his spine, and Ed's eyes shot up. He stood and spun around furiously, trying to detect any signs of life, but coming up empty. "Damn it, who the hell is there?"

No response. Edward took a deep breath, failing to stop his right eye from twitching. He heard a snicker, and the alchemist whipped around. No one was there.

Was he hallucinating? Paranoid? It was entirely possible, given his condition. As if to remind him of that fact, a stabbing pain erupted in his head, causing the blonde to stumble backwards.

Steadying himself against the window pane, Ed pinched the bridge of his nose, looking outside. Moments later, he practically fell into his desk. There was someone outside. Someone he recognized. Someone he thought was dead.

Sloth.

Thinking back, did Sloth ever die? He had assumed that the Armstrong's had killed him, but… was that ever confirmed? Edward pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, eyes wide. "How…? How is there a homunculus here?" He muttered, thinking back to his last day in Amestris, before he tried to offer his Gate, but most of it was a blur of fighting and grief. "Think, damnit!" He cried, hoping against hope that Sloth was definitely dead, that he was just hallucinating.

Edward's gaze rocketed back to the window. The giant was headed towards the Forbidden Forest. He looked a bit different than Ed remembered, with a large bushy beard and a thick coat, but there was no mistaking that hulking creature.

He sighed miserably. Ed thought he was done with Homunculi, but he couldn't let them infiltrate and ruin yet another world. Besides, if Sloth was here, did that mean Father... ? No. He was dead. Right?

Stop. You're not thinking clearly. Just check it out, take care of it.

Edward grabbed his coat- red, of course- and sprinted outside until he caught up to the slow moving man. Fueled by pure adrenaline, the blonde stayed a few feet behind Sloth, moving stealthily across the snow, reminded of Briggs.

When the homunculus finally stopped, Ed's breath was taken away.

"Okay, I'm here, ya big lug."

"Hagger!"

What… what is that thing? Envy?

Steeling himself, Ed clapped his hands together, then pressed them to a large boulder. Spires of rock shot out, wrapping themselves around Sloth. Edward knew it wouldn't hold the homunculus, but he hoped it would at least subdue it for a bit. He was being illogical, he knew that. There was no way stone would stop that beast, even for a moment, but it was all he had at the moment.

Sloth cried out, falling backwards and looking back and forth, perplexed by the bars. Perfect. Ed slapped his palms to each other, then to his automail arm. It had been months since he had done this- though only about an hour since he wanted to- but Edward performed the transmutation like it was just yesterday.

Ed charged the… thing, sword glinting in the fading sunlight. It wailed, and lunged for the cage Sloth was in. "Hagger!"

"No! Don' hurt 'im! He's my little brother!"

That caused Edward to freeze. He turned around and got a good look at Sloth… except it wasn't Sloth.

"I'll do anythin'!" There were tears in the abnormally large man's eyes. Ed breathed a sigh of relief. He pressed his hands to the ground, and the enclosure retracted back into a large boulder.

"Who are you supposed to be? And, uh, what is that?" Ed sighed. The huge man stood, looking confused.

"Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid. And this 's my half brother, Grawp," he said with a strange accent. Edward smiled. Sloth was barely sophisticated enough to get a sentence together, and while this man didn't seem terribly educated, he was obviously human. Well, partly human, at least. He turned his automail back to an arm.

"Edward Elric."

Hagrid gasped, face brightening in recognition. But before he could get word out, another sharp bolt of pain slashed through the alchemist's head. All the adrenaline he had been running on was gone, leaving behind only fatigue and illness. "Damn," he whispered as his vision began to blur.

"You alrigh'?" came Hagrid.

"Yeah, I'm fine," snapped the blonde, but he could taste blood. It was depressing how familiar that was.

"I've 'eard abou' you, from Hermione an' Harry an' Ron!"

"All good things I hope," Ed said, trying to keep the pain out of his voice.

"Yeah… you sure you're alrigh'?"

"I'm… just great. Don't…"

With that final word, Edward Elric collapsed in a heap on the ground, blood trickling from his mouth and staining the white snow red.


	10. Chapter 10

Am I dead?

Is this what being dead feels like?

Damn it, what's Al going to without me? Winry?

How the hell did I die?

Wait…

Can you feel pain when you're dead?

...

The first thing Edward Elric noticed was that it was dark.

The second thing was that he felt as though he'd been run over by a truck. He groaned, trying to raise an arm to bury his face. That didn't go so well, as moving turned out to be much harder than he'd expected it to be.

"Edward? Are you awake?"

This elicited yet another moan, as Dumbledore's voice turned to ice shards and stung like a night on Briggs mountain.

"Please, look at me if you can."

Ed didn't feel like doing much of anything, but this unending blackness was getting to him, and he hated not knowing what's going on. He attempted to open his eyes, but only succeeded in cracking a single eye open, and even that took a monumental amount of effort.

"Thank you, Edward."

A snarky comment faded as the alchemist registered the coppery taste in mouth he knew all too well. His other eye flew open as memories came rushing back to him. Sloth who wasn't Sloth. The huge monstrosity in the forest. The ground suddenly becoming closer to his face than he had expected.

"Wha…?" he croaked, then immediately regretted it. If he thought someone else talking to him hurt…

"What happened? Honestly, I have no idea. As far as what I've heard from Hagrid, you appeared out of nowhere and attacked him, decided against it, and then collapsed. He took you back to his hut and alerted me of the situation. He was so kind as to let me speak to you alone."

Ed tried to sit up. It was slow going, but eventually he managed to lean against the headboard of the gigantic bed he had been laid in. The alchemist looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in a small room, warm and filled with… were those animal skins? Everything inside was monumentally large, and made Ed feel even smaller than he actually was.

"I was also told that you begged not to be taken to the hospital wing," Dumbledore continued. "I would ask you why that is, but you seem to be indisposed at the moment, so I shall hold my questions until you regain your voice. I did cast a spell on you that should remedy that problem, but I'm not sure how effective it will be on you."

The old man regarded the young over half moon spectacles. "Edward, are you aware of how serious your condition is?"

Ed looked away. This horrible illness, his punishment for committing the greatest sin known to man, was something he tried to push to the back of his mind, to ignore and pretend it didn't exist. Coughing fits were blamed on light colds, headaches came from staring at a book for far too long.

He'd almost come to believe his own excuses.

"I am astonished that you've been able to hide your ailment for this long, even from your students." Dumbledore would have looked amused if it wasn't for the concern that marred his kind face.

Edward cleared his throat. He knew speaking wouldn't do him any good, but didn't much care. "Yeah?" he muttered, testing his voice.

"Do you know what is causing it? I have my suspicions, of course."

At that, Ed looked up far faster than he should, and a spike of pain ran through his head. He winced and brought a hand to his face, but said, "What do you think?"

In truth, Edward didn't have a clue as to what was wrong with him. Albus gave him careful look. "How well do you know Nicholas Flamel, or, should I say, Van Hohenheim?"

The alchemist froze.

"Wh-what? Why?"

"Because I have noticed many..similarities between the two of you."

"Oh. Well, I have been told that we look a lot alike," smiled Edward, hating every painful word. Hohenheim may have redeemed himself in the end, but he'd always be that stone cold face in the study to Ed.

"That is not what I mean. There have been an overwhelming amount of parallels in your story and Nicholas's."

"C-coincidence?"

"Maybe," the old wizard mused. I would like to get your thoughts on the matter. Come to my office as soon as you feel up to it."

"Why not now?" asked Ed, alarmed.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Why not now? Because that adrenaline rush I'm sure you're experiencing will likely only last you long enough to reach your office."

Taken aback, Edward realized that he was already fading. "A-alright," he stuttered, confused beyond belief. Standing up unsteadily, the alchemist approached the door. Every step hurt, but Ed pulled through it. I've had worse, he thought.

The walk up to the castle was slow going. Dumbledore followed Edward, acting as though he didn't notice the pain plastered on the blonde's face. For that, Ed was grateful. He got the feeling that if it had been someone else, Harry Potter, for example, the old wizard would have been supporting him the whole way. But he seemed to know that Ed would hate that. It would be blatant admittance of weakness. So Albus kept his distance, though a watchful glance would be thrown Edward's way every few minutes.

When they got to the young professor's office, Ed was exhausted, and looking forward to sleeping through the rest of the day. "The password for my office is 'Fizzing Whizbee'. Goodbye, Edward," called Dumbledore, though the blonde barely heard a word. He nearly fell onto his bed, and was asleep in seconds.

…

Phineas hated this job. The kid he'd been assigned- assigned! Of all people!- to follow never did anything aside from read and write in a little notebook all day. It didn't take the ex-headmaster three hours to note book titles.

He'd been staring at the kid for so long, the portrait's mind began to wander. Why did I agree to do this? He shook his head at his own stupidity, recalling his first conversation with that Umbridge woman. The smile she had given him was satisfied, and caused instant dislike.

"Hello, Phineas."

Dark eyebrows rose. "I see you know my name. Would you grace me with yours?" he drawled in bored voice.

Color rose to the already fairly pink lady's face. "Dolores Umbridge. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Is there a reason you had a picture of me drawn? Are you some sort of fanatic?"

She flushed even deeper. "No, no. Well, I am a fan. I agree with your principles wholeheartedly and hope that we can get along."

Phineas, secretly flattered to have a legitimate fan, scoffed.

"It's true. In fact, I had hoped that you would want to help me in… continuing your legacy, shall we say?"

There it was.

"Ah, I see. That's wh-"

"No!" she cried, panicking. "No, that's not it at… well, it is, but only partly! I really am a fan!" Regaining confidence, she continued. "I know that you ruled this school with an iron fist, delivering justice to-"

"Will you stop with the theatrics and get to the point?" sighed the Slytherin. She nodded curtly.

"In the years since you've been gone, this school has gone to the dogs, as I'm sure you can see, what with that fool Dumbledore being headmaster. Now he's introduced a new professor." Umbridge's doughy face contorted in disgust. "Edward Elric," she spat, like the name was poison.

"I take it you do not think highly of this Elric."

She laughed, a cringeworthy sound. "How could I? He's a brat, only a teenager, and still was hired to teach a dead magic! He's probably some sort of mercenary, or a spy. I know he's up to something." Her beady eyes found Phineas again. "That's why I sent for you. I need to keep tabs on him, find out what he's up to."

"Mm. Need is such a strong word. Do you really need my help?"

Umbridge took a deep breath. "Yes, I do. Edward Elric is hiding something important. I could barely get anything out of him with veritaserum! Veritaserum! He's befriended the Gryffindors! Everything about him is just… the opposite of what a professor should be!" Her eyes were blazing with the fervor reserved for the passionate or obsessed.

"And why would I help you?"

That shook the professor out of her stupor. "Why?" she asked, like it was unthinkable Phineas wouldn't want to help her. "Because if you catch him in the act, I have a case against our good headmaster. I would be next in line for the job. Wouldn't you rather a Slytherin be in office?"

Phineas had to admit, she had a point. Now, he regretted taking this 'job' with his entire being. He was almost excited when the boy ripped his gaze away from the text he was poring over, looking thoroughly unsettled.

When he left, Phineas smothered a sigh, then followed through the pictures on the wall.

…

On the last day of winter break, Edward found himself staring down a gargoyle. Dumbledore's office was supposed to be right here, but as far as he could tell, the statue had replaced any semblance of a door.

Suddenly, a piece of information from a few days ago resurfaced in the alchemist's mind. "Um, Fizzing Whizbee?" he said, feeling exceedingly stupid while doing so. To his surprise, the words seemed to have some effect on the gargoyle, as Edward was granted access to the hidden office.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Edward," called Dumbledore, looking up from his desk and smiling at the blonde.

"Yeah… so, why am I here, exactly?"

The old professor stood, then approached a large bowl by a wall. "Do you know what this is, Edward?"

The alchemist shook his head.

"It is something called a pensieve. It is where I store all of my memories, so I can clear up headspace without forgetting."

"Okay… and what am I supposed to do with it?"

"That is simple. I would like for you to look inside."

"... Alright." Trying to hold back a disbelieving laugh, Edward stepped towards the receptacle and turned his gaze to the bowl. He gasped when suddenly the water inside was no longer water. It had turned to an aerial view of a party scene.

Ed leaned forward to get a closer look, when he found himself much closer than he intended to be. Suddenly a part of the party, the blonde whirled around, only for a tall man to walk straight through him.

Not screaming was becoming a struggle.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Dumbledore's voice came from Edward's left, and he looked at the old man with wide eyes. "To be completely ignored?"

The alchemist nodded absently. He had all but forgotten the headmaster. Tears had begun to pool in his eyes, and Ed walked forwards as if in a trance.

"Edward?" Dumbledore had most certainly not forgotten him. The old man followed the young's gaze. A man and a woman stood arm in arm, laughing at someone's joke.

The man had long blonde hair and glasses, while the woman had gray-blue eyes and dark chestnut ponytail. Edward was locked on them, and Albus could have sworn he heard the boy whisper, "Mom?"


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh my goodness, they're absolute angels!"

"So adorable, Molly! Congratulations."

"What beautiful little boys!"

The large expanse of land behind a rather crooked house was filled with people. A party, evidently, and the guests had their eyes set on a pair of babies. A man and a woman, both with bright red hair, wearily thanked the crowd.

"Have you thought of names yet?" asked a woman with long brown hair and bright green eyes.

The redheaded woman nodded, smiling. "Yes. We've agreed on Fred and George."

"They're so mellow!"

"Yes, they've been no trouble at all! So quiet!"

"That's because they're always watching me!" whined a young voice.

"Bill, they're barely a month old. There's no way that they can-"

"I'm not kidding, dad!"

All of this sailed right over the blonde head of a certain alchemist, whose gaze was in a different direction altogether.

"Edward?" asked Albus, to no response. The old professor approached the alchemist. "What seems to be the problem?"

Ed shuddered and turned around. His eyes were sparkling, and he seemed surprised when he realized there were tears on his face. "N-nothing. I just… nothing."

Dumbledore sensed the boy's walls coming back up and changed the subject. "As you seem to have already noticed, that is Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle. This celebration is for the newborn Weasley twins. This was-"

"What is this?"

His voice was quiet and hoarse. "How are we here?" Edward laughed without humor, "This more of your 'magic' shit?"

Albus smiled benignly. "Yes, actually. This is but a memory. In fact, it took place more than seventeen years ago. We are not present at the scene, just witnesses."

Ed closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if to compose himself. He nodded once. "Of course. This isn't real." He looked back at Dumbledore. "Whose memory is this?"

In response, the wizard simply pointed to his doppleganger, who stood in the throng making conversation with a man in glasses. "It is my own."

"Ah. So… Why did you bring me here?"

"All in good time. Make sure to keep me- the one in the memory- in sight."

Ed tried to do as he was told, he really did, but his stare kept wavering back to the Flamels. A haunted look was playing across his features, and whenever Perenelle smiled or laughed, he flinched.

It was enough for Albus to want to distract the poor boy, who was obviously in pain. But as it turned out, he didn't need to, as the cue he was waiting for came. Nicholas leaned over to his wife and whispered something in her ear before excusing himself and walking out to the side yard.

The 'younger' Dumbledore- he still looked the same- frowned. He said something to the guy he was talking to before following Hohenheim.

"Edward," said Albus gently. The blonde tore his gaze from Perenelle, then trailed after both Dumbledores.

Flamel had one hand pressed up against the wall of the house, while the other was covering his mouth in an attempt to stifle his coughing. But the part that really struck Ed was the blood staining Hohenheim's fingers.

Moments later, as Ed had suspected he would, Hohenheim stood, color returning to his once ashen face, dark circles disappearing from under his eyes.

Flamel seemed surprised when he nearly ran straight into Dumbledore on his way to the backyard. "Why hello there, Albus. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, nothing. I was on my way inside when I noticed you seemed to be in some sort of distress- do you require a healer?"

Nicholas laughed. "No, no. I'm perfectly fine. Never been better."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite. Don't worry yourself over me. I am quite alright."

Dumbledore watched with puzzled expression as Flamel made his way back to the party.

"That was the first instance of many where Nicholas exhibited these symptoms." Dumbledore- the present one-'s voice startled Edward. "I was reminded of him when I saw your condition." He smiled. "And, of course, your physical resemblance."

Ed colored.

"I think that should be enough," said the professor, and all at once, they were out of the pensieve. Edward stumbled backwards, almost falling over.

"No!" cried the boy. He had finally seen his mother alive again, for the first time in eleven years- even if it was just an illusion. "I- I mean…" he floundered for words, "What happened next?"

Albus considered him carefully before continuing. "The celebration continued rather uneventfully. I believe a table fell over at one point."

Edward nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. But before he could say anything, a knock on the door interrupted him. Severus Snape flew through the door, black cloak billowing out behind him and giving the potions master the appearance of an overbearing vampire bat.

"You asked for me, sir?"

"Ah, yes, Severus." Dumbledore nodded happily. "Thank you for coming."

"What's this about?" asked Edward warily.

The old professor turned to face him. "Severus may not be a healer, but he is quite gifted in the field of potions, as I have no doubt you already knew. What you may not have been aware of is that he is also adept in curative brews as well."

"You mean…?"

"No, I am afraid we will not be able to save you fully. But slowing down the process is definitely a reasonable goal."

The boy stared at Albus skeptically. Snape cleared his throat. "Excuse me sir, but I am still not exactly clear on why I was told to come."

Dumbledore stood up. "Ah, yes. Of course. Why don't you go with Severus, Edward, and let him in on your little… problem."

"But-"

"I am sure he will be able to help."

Ed frowned, but did as he was asked, leaving the office. Left alone, Albus approached the pensieve once more. The wizard looked inside until he discovered the memory he was searching for.

Dumbledore leaned forward until he was inside the recollection. He found himself, yet again, in his office, though almost 17 years ago. He- the younger version of himself- sat at his desk, across from none other than Nicholas Flamel.

"I need you to take it."

"Take what?"

"Albus, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Dumbledore sighed. "Nicholas, I understand your reasoning, but-"

"I don't think you do. Perenelle, she… well, she wants to have children." Flamel shuddered. "I have no intention of outliving them. Losing the stone will just make us able to age again. We will live a normal life."

The professor shook his head halfway through his friend's sentence. "No, you will not. Simply not having the stone in your possession will not stop Voldemort from believing you do."

"Exactly. That is why I need you to take it. We're leaving."

"There is no place where he will not find you."

"That is where you're wrong, Albus. I know of somewhere so deep underground, no one will be able to discover us ever again." Nicholas looked away. "Including you, Albus."

A silver eyebrow raised. "Really?"

"I have been searching for a way to get back to Amestris- this place- for almost my entire lifetime. Now that I know where it is, I… I am afraid I must leave. It makes the perfect hiding place, and besides, I have some unfinished business to take care of."

The blonde turned back to the professor. "This is goodbye, Albus."

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment. "I cannot fault you for your decision. You will be missed."

"Thank you, Albus. Please, keep it safe." Flamel retrieved a ruby red stone from his coat pocket. He hesitated, before saying, "I have one more request. It may be too much to ask…"

"What is it, Nicholas?"

"Could you act as though we were still here? Say we moved to the country or something like that. Perenelle and I are extremely solitary people, so it wouldn't make much difference. Just pretend we haven't gone anywhere until you have an excuse for us not to be. A mysterious disappearance… well, I'd rather not have it be looked into."

Albus smiled. "Is that all? I have done more difficult things. Consider it done."

A large smile broke out across Flamel's face. "I cannot thank you enough." He stood and shook Dumbledore's hand. "You're a good man, Albus. You've done so much for us over the years. I will be forever grateful."

He walked to the door. "Goodbye, old friend. "

That was the last time Dumbledore had ever seen the immortal. He did as he promised, and no one had suspected that Flamel was missing. Living for centuries had caused the couple to isolate themselves from society, so not many callers came, and they were easily waved off.

Albus of the present had found what he was looking for, and was expelled from the pensieve.

Amestris… I shall remember that.

…

"What're Death Eaters supposed to be?"

Hermione was surprised by such a direct question, and even more so to find Professor Elric didn't know what a Death Eater was.

Edward had approached her after class, a serious look on his pale face as he quizzed her.

"Everyone is freaking out about these 'Death Eaters' escaping from 'Ask-a-ban,' and I have no idea what they're talking about."

And Hermione understood. It was only the second day of the term, and the whole school was in chaos over the Azkaban breakout, reported in this morning's news. Edward, who seemed to be the most stubbornly "muggle" person she had ever met, would have no way of knowing.

"Death Eaters are followers of Voldemort. They were put in Azkaban, the wizard prison for doing unspeakable things. Ten of them escaped yesterday."

Ed nodded. "Okay, that makes sense. Thanks."

"Anytime," said the girl. With that, she exited the classroom.

Sighing, Edward pulled a flask from his jacket. He looked at it for a moment, frowned, then took a drink. "Ohh, shit, that's bad," he muttered. But though it tasted terrible, the horrible feeling at the back of his throat disappeared for the first time in weeks.

…

Alex Louis Armstrong was well known for many things. His ability to work under pressure was not one of them.

Alphonse was well on his way to finding out what General Mustang was up to. It obviously had something to do with Ed, Al had seen the books and maps in his office from his many trips there after being discharged from the hospital. It was rare to find him at Central HQ, as Mustang was constantly missing. The only one who seemed to know anything was Armstrong.

The newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel may have been able to keep a secret, but this was about Edward. Armstrong was far too emotionally invested in this one to keep much of anything from the younger brother.

"I know General Mustang thinks he's keeping me safe, really, I do… but I can't just sit on the sidelines while he looks for my brother. I just… can't."

It wasn't even an act.

"You don't have to tell me what he's doing, just where he is. I need to know. Please, Lieutenant Colonel. I want to help."

The giant man's resolve was waning, Al could tell. He felt a ray of hope. Just one more little push. "I need something to tell Winry. She's been so sad ever since brother… disappeared." Al hated to play the Winry card, but anything to get in on the secret. Besides, it was true.

That was all it took. "General Mustang made me promise not to tell you… but he never said anything about his location… I believe he is at a hotel in the city presently. Room 414." Armstrong shook his head. "I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Thank you so much! You've helped so much, Lieutenant!"

"That's what I am afraid of, Alphonse."

…

Al was lucky there weren't many hotels in Central City. He quickly found the place, and pressed his ear to the door.

"... every month or so."

"So it's random? There's no pattern at all?"

"Well, I'm sure there is. We just haven't-"

"What does it matter?" Al gasped softly. He knew that voice. "We can just camp out around it, can't we? Wait for it to work?"

"Izumi, I don't have that kind of time?"

"What the hell do you mean by that, Mustang? This is Edward we're talking about!"

That was what Al was waiting for. He slapped his hands together and transmuted a hole into the door. Three sets of eyes turned to see him.

"Tell me everything," he demanded.

Izumi looked amused. "Hello, Al. Nice seeing you here."

Al was astonished to find she wasn't angry.

"I told you he'd find out, one way or another," she said, looking at Mustang. "There's no point in keeping him out of this."

"Izumi… Look, Al-"

"I'm afraid Mrs. Curtis is correct, General," Hawkeye intoned.

"What?" cried Mustang. Hawkeye sighed.

"Roy, Edward is his brother. It wouldn't be right to keep him out of this."

Mustang closed his eyes, trying to get ahold of himself. "Alright, Al. Let's get you up to speed," he growled, pulling out a map.


	12. Chapter 12

Hagrid had joined Trelawney in being on probation. Though it wasn't unexpected, it was still disconcerting seeing Umbridge using her newfound power, especially for the teachers.

Well, aside from Edward. Ever since winter break ended his classes were suddenly even more interesting, and the teacher had energy to spare. The general consensus was that he was daring Umbridge to try to sack him, but Hermione suspected otherwise.

Something was different beyond the alchemy professor's lesson plans. Edward had not just changed emotionally, but physically as well. He smiled more, and his eyes were much less dull than they had been all year. When the students were set to practicing their alchemy, he paced around the room, helping anyone who needed help. It was a welcome change.

DA meetings were still going on, but there was a new feeling of caution now that the latest educational decree was up: teachers were no longer allowed to give information beyond lessons. The Army couldn't help but feel the rule was put in place because of Professor Elric.

Professor Elric didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't seem to care.

It was almost worrying, the way his mood had done a complete 180, but no one thought much of it. They were just happy to have a class to look forward to.

It was nearly a week from the first day of the new term when Hermione was back to worrying. Every Divination class and Care of Magical Creatures class was now supervised by none other than the High Inquisitor herself.

It was only a matter of time before Alchemy was added to the list.

…

Edward couldn't believe all the things he'd been missing. After spending over three months at Hogwarts in complete misery, being relatively free of his illness was like opening his eyes for the first time.

Hogwarts was much larger than he'd originally assumed. There was so much to the school, he doubted that it had ever been fully explored. It was a lot easier to pay attention to the beauty of the castle when he didn't feel the desperate need to walk the halls with his face in a book.

That wasn't to say the potion cured everything. Edward's constant headache was only dulled, and he was prone to nosebleeds. But for the most part, his blood stayed in his veins, and the world was always in focus.

After the pensieve, Edward had a new thing to research: Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. It was difficult to find anything about Flamel at first, but he simply went further and further back in time until he found the first mention of the alchemist. After all, Hohenheim was immortal.

There were accounts of how Nicholas and his wife, Perenelle had survived for over six hundred years on the elixir of life, and an article or two on Nicholas's 500th birthday. There were long papers and notes on his work with the Philosopher's Stone- or the Sorcerer's Stone, which Ed soon realized was the same thing, though both were quite different than the alchemical version.

His quest for information led him to a rather recent book. It was surprising at first, until Edward realized that it told of Flamel's death and the circumstances behind it. That led him to Harry Potter's brush with the stone.

So it was after a lesson about how different types of wood could sometimes require slightly different transmutation circles, Ed stopped the green-eyed Gryffindor on his way out of the classroom.

"Sir?" asked Harry.

"What was your relationship with Nicholas Flamel?" asked the professor. Harry frowned. "I never met him, actually. After I recovered the Philosopher's Stone, Professor Dumbledore spoke to Nicholas Flamel and they decided to destroy it. Aside from that, I don't know-"

"What about his wife? Perenelle?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I know less about her than him."

The blonde deflated a bit. "Well, thanks anyways," he sighed, turning back to the book on his desk and effectively dismissing Harry.

After a considerable amount of searching, the alchemy professor had discovered a journal that Flamel had kept over the years between 500 and 600.

The journal was the only thing that interested Edward. It was written in what was unmistakably Hohenheim's hand, and was filled with simple entries such as: "Went for walk today. Enjoyed the sounds of the birds," or "There were no good spices at the market today, so I went to a general store instead, and got exactly what I needed."

Suspecting a code, Edward had pocketed the journal.

…

"If we can't trust Dumbledore, we can't trust anyone."

Hermione's words echoed in Harry's head, becoming more and more ironic with every second. How was he supposed to trust someone who wouldn't even look at him anymore?

Shaking his head, the boy continued down the corridor. DA had run long, and Harry had spent an extra hour or two planning the next class's lesson. He'd lost track of time, and was now hurrying back to the Gryffindor common room at half past midnight.

Harry turned a corner, then felt his heart speed up when he heard footsteps, praying he wouldn't be stuck in detention or banned from Hogsmeade the next day. He was supposed to meet Cho for Valentine's Day, and would have no idea what to tell her if he missed the date they'd planned nearly a month in advance.

Luckily for his love life, the person Harry had heard was not Professor Snape or Umbridge, but rather, Elric.

Though he was fairly sure the alchemy professor wouldn't punish him for being out past curfew, Harry wasn't taking any chances. He ducked into the hall he'd just left.

The blonde was muttering to himself as he walked, with a tattered leather book in his hands. "Maybe the… no, he wouldn't do that. Too obvious. Damn, think!" Edward paused, then whirled around, his expression growing murderous. "Alright, I am done being watched, so you better show yourself before I find you."

The blood in Harry's veins turned to ice. Caught, he stepped into the corridor. "I'm sorry professor, I was-"

Edward waved his excuse away impatiently. "Not you," he said, glaring at Harry with those luminous golden eyes. With only the dim light of the torches to see by, the professor looked unhinged. He turned around, searching the hall, but finding nothing. "I don't know who the hell you are, but I'm going to find you, and when I do, you'll need a miracle."

With that, the blonde made his way into the darkness, leaving Harry to his confusion. Throughout the entire exchange, Edward hadn't so much as acknowledged the fact that Harry shouldn't be out this late. Nor did he mention why he himself had been wandering the school at this hour.

Harry stood for a moment, thinking, until he suddenly realized that while Edward had ignored him- aside from the venom filled, "Not you,"- Filch or any other teacher would not be quite so distracted.

It was with a mind full of confusion that Harry slipped into the Gryffindor common room and safely into bed.

…

After twelve o'clock, Madame Pince hurried Edward out of the library. "I don't care if you're a professor, I'm not leaving anyone alone with my books," she snapped. The, "especially a child," was not said, but noted nonetheless.

It was probably for the best, as the words in Flamel's journal had begun to float around the page and Ed's headache was returning for the first time in almost a week.

With his mind full of complicated codexes, Edward was on his way back to his office. Running into Harry Potter in the hall was unexpected. The return of that feeling of being watched, however, was not.

It was driving Ed crazy. The only upside to being on the brink of death half the time was that it was a constant distraction from his stalker. Now, his improved health had returned that sneaking suspicion of being spied on at full force.

Even worse than that was the fact that it had been over two weeks and he still hadn't made any headway in his deciphering of Hohenheim's journal. Ed had considered asking Dumbledore, but he doubted the headmaster would know, even if he had been friends with Flamel. Edward didn't tell Alphonse the code he used to disguise his notes, so if Flamel had told Dumbledore what his journal meant, he wasn't much of an alchemist.

There was also that horrifying possibility that it really was just a journal, and Hohenheim really did enjoy long walks and coriander.

But Ed pushed that thought to the back of his mind. This was the only real lead he had.

The next few days passed by with startling speed. Between research and teaching, Edward had completely lost track of time.

However, time did not equal process, and the only thing he had achieved in all that time spent attempting to crack Hohenheim's code was wasted parchment.

Harry Potter, on the other hand, had managed to get himself banned from Hogsmeade, lose fifty points from his house, stuck in detention for a week, and a newfound fame that filled the halls.

Edward had no idea what was going on. Sure, he'd read about this Voldemort- still sounded like a fancy way of saying fatal mold, if you asked him- but that didn't mean Ed had much of a grasp on who he was. There were more important things to investigate than some guy with a stupid name.

It seemed that he was the only person who thought so, and Edward couldn't imagine why. As always, when confronted with confusion in the magical world, he looked to his go-to source: Hermione Granger.

...

"Why is Voldemort such a big deal?" cried the student, looking so scandalized, Edward felt the heat rising in his face.

"Look, I'm not from around here. I wouldn't know, okay?"

Hermione gave him a skeptical look, but seemed to remember who she was speaking to and shook her head. "Voldemort is the most terrible wizard to ever hold a wand. He killed hundreds, and hurt even more, and that's not even counting what his followers, the Death Eaters have done."

Ed nodded, thinking of Neville's parents. "Death Eaters tortured them into insanity when I was little."

"So why's everyone getting all worked up again? This is weirder than that prison breakout."

"At the end of last year, Harry- Harry Potter, that is, came face to face with Voldemort, but no one believed him. It made them feel better to ignore his return."

"Return?"

"People thought Voldemort was dead, but… it's a long story," sighed the brown eyed girl, giving him a pleading look.

"Alright, so what's going on now?"

"Well," said Hermione, the ghost of a smile playing across her face. "I arranged an interview for Harry, one where he told the honest truth about what happened last June. It only just came out, and Professor Umbridge banned it almost immediately."

Ed smiled. "So now everyone's reading it?"

Hermione grinned and nodded. "I can't believe… hang on, is that a cipher?"

Confused, Edward followed her gaze to his desk. It was a total mess, but at the top was a complicated cipher he had been testing on Flamel's journal. "Oh, yeah. It's not for class, don't worry."

"No, it's not that. I didn't know you were interested in ancient runes."

"Huh?"

"I'm in the class. Ancient Runes, with Professor Babbling. We learned about encoding last year. What are-?"

"You know how to read this thing?" Edward asked. "I can't get through half of the stuff in this one, let alone what's in the library."

"I wouldn't say I can read it, per se, but I know enough to get by." She smiled. "I did a bit of extra reading on the subject. What are you working on, if you don't mind my asking?"

Ed considered the girl for a moment. "Hermione," he started slowly. "Are you any good at codes?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple lines taken directly from Order of the Phoenix in this chapter, used to define the setting. I felt I had to use them because the scene is important, but not directly affected by Edward or anything from the FMA world. If I changed these lines, then it wouldn't be true to the story.
> 
> To clarify, I don't own OOtP, nor do I own FMA- though a girl can certainly dream, right?

Ron groaned, scratching out something on the essay he'd been working on. "How does he expect us to finish this by Thursday?"

Hermione gave him a pointed look. "O.W.L.s are in less than three months! Don't you want to be prepared?"

"I'd rather be unprepared than have to do all this," cried the redhead, gesturing to the mound of parchment in front of him.

Shaking her head, Hermione gathered up her things. Seeing this, Harry asked, "Where are you going?"

"Let her go, Harry. She's already done with everything," said Ron gloomily, looking back at his unfinished paper. "Us, on the other hand…"

"If you really must know, I'm getting extra lessons from Professor Elric. Alchemy is just fascinating, don't you agree?"

At that, Ron's gaze shot up, work forgotten. "What do you mean, 'extra lessons from Professor Elric?'"

Hermione colored a bit. "I mean, I'm interested in the subject, Ronald. Don't jump to conclusions."

"But we don't even have O.W.L.s for Alchemy!"

Harry frowned. "We don't?"

"No, Edward's the only known person in the magical world who knows how to do alchemy, so there's no one to administer the exam."

"You mean I've been studying for nothing?!" cried the black-haired boy, eyes growing wide.

"Oh, now he's Edward, huh?" shouted Ron.

"You're such an idiot, Ron. Anyways, don't forget you have Occlumency tonight, Harry," snapped Hermione, whirling around and out the portrait hole.

Ron stared at his homework darkly. "I don't like these 'extra lessons'. It's just not right."

Harry smirked at his friend. "Yeah? Why is that?"

"I mean… he's a professor! And she's… Hermione!" Ron complained.

"Yeah?"

"It's… It's just not right."

…

"Any luck, Professor?" Hermione asked, closing the door to the Alchemy classroom behind her. "I translated some of the runes in that code that you-"

"No, no," Edward muttered, his eyes still on his desk. "It didn't work. Honestly, I doubt any of them will."

"What? Why do you say that?" Hermione took her customary seat across from him, picking up a new roll of parchment. "I thought…"

"He'd make his own code. It's most likely a combination, but you never know…" Ed scowled, scratching out something he'd just written down. "Gah, this is like trying to read in the dark! I have no idea what to look for!"

"Well, we can't give up. This could be groundbreaking!"

Edward winced internally. A white lie, sure, but a lie nonetheless. All he knew was that Umbridge had somehow got him to tell her things he never would have normally. If the Umbitch started to get generous with whatever it was she gave him… he didn't want Hermione mixed up in the mess that would follow.

No, it was better to hide his reasons. In any case, Ed didn't really know exactly what he would find, so it could be groundbreaking alchemical research after all.

After a couple hours without progress, Hermione began to pick up her notes. "Sorry I have to leave so early, Professor, but Harry should be coming back from… remedial potions soon, and I promised I'd help him with the homework."

"Remedial potions, huh? Didn't seem like the type." Ed pulled out his silver watch. "Don't worry about it, it's getting late anyway."

Hermione met a grim Ron back in the Gryffindor common room. "How were your extra lessons?" he sneered.

"Fine, thank you," she replied icily.

A pause.

"Should we go down to dinner?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. All of Ron's anger was put aside when it came to food. "Sure," she sighed, hoping Snape would let Harry go soon. She would rather not spend dinner being interrogated by a brooding Ron.

"Why do you need to have extra lessons-"

"Would you stop saying it like that? It's because I want to know more, plain and simple! Let it go!"

"I will not-!" But Ron's angry reply was cut off by a scream from down the hall. Alert, the two students rushed to find the source and soon discovered they were not the only ones. A large crowd had formed around Professors Trelawney and Umbridge.

"... refuse to accept it!"

"You didn't realize this was coming? Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realized that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable you would be sacked?"

…

Why is everyone at this school so damn tall?

Edward pushed his way through the horde of students, but was still unable to see what was happening in the courtyard. He could definitely hear it, as everything Professor Trelawney said was screamed quite theatrically.

But seeing was another thing. Fed up, Ed pressed his hands to the ground. A large cube of concrete formed beneath him, giving him an extra couple feet or so.

Ignoring the disgruntled Slytherins around him, Edward took advantage of his newfound height, searching for the source of the commotion. When he found it, the alchemy teacher nearly fell off the block. Dumbledore was introducing none other than a chimera. He was human from the waist up, but his legs and lower body were unmistakably equine.

"This is Firenze. I think you'll find him suitable," said Dumbledore serenely, giving Umbridge a smile.

The crowd erupted into murmurs as Umbridge struggled to form a response. "Professor Dumbledore, this- this is not… I… Well!" she sputtered.

Words were said, but Ed didn't hear any of them. A successful human-animal blend, mobile, capable of speaking and - apparently - teaching. It was too much.

It wasn't long before the students began to disperse. Soon, only Umbridge and Ed were left in the hall.

"What are you doing here? And what have you done to the floor?" screeched the pink clad woman in her girlishly high voice.

The shock had not quite worn off yet, but Edward put the floor back to normal and left without another word.

…

"Hermione, is the creation of a human chimera legal here?"

The brown- haired girl looked up from her papers, confused. "That's a strange question," she said carefully.

Seeing what she was thinking, Ed's golden eyes widened. "No! No, that's not… I think I've had enough of that for a lifetime."

Hermione gave a humorless smile. She knew that all too well: "just shoot me… it's all my fault… Please, just kill me. The girl shuddered imperceptibly as he continued on.

"No, I'm talking about the new Divination professor. Is that more magic? Did he want to become… that? Was it an accident or something?" Edward hated the way his voice had developed a slightly pleading quality.

"Oh, Firenze? He's a centaur."

"A centaur? But those are just… Oh. Right." The alchemist shook his head. "I keep forgetting, this is a magic world."

"You'll get used to it eventually. I did," said Hermione.

Ed looked up, a questioning look on his face.

"I'm muggle born. I didn't have a clue about magic until I was eleven and got my Hogwarts acceptance letter." She shifted her gaze back to her research. "But I adapted the same way I always do: finding out as much as I possibly can until it all seems plausible. Then it's an easy step from considering to believing."

…

It was soon after Hermione had left that it happened. Edward had migrated to the desk in his quarters and was continuing his work on the journal.

He'd been trying to translate a cipher that was in some weird language called "Chinese." Ed had a slight advantage with this one, as it seemed to be nearly identical to Xingese, which he had a basic grasp of.

After spending an hour on it, the young professor had soon realized that the newest codex was useless.

"Damn it," he whispered. Before he'd even said the words, a feeling of horror rose in his chest as something terribly familiar returned.

The taste of blood filled his mouth, and Ed pushed back from his desk.

"No, no, no…" he whispered, trying to swallow back a cough. But it wasn't enough, and soon the hacking overtook him. Feeling lightheaded, Edward laughed without humor.

"I knew magic was all bullshit," he said, before falling out of his chair and onto the floor.

...

"Why haven't we left yet?" Al demanded, following Mustang into the military hotel that had become the base of operations for their ragtag group.

The general ignored him, going into their rented room. The two other occupants looked up at his entrance. "There you are. What took you so long?" snapped Izumi, standing up.

Al ignored her. "I've been waiting to leave for almost six months now, and we haven't so much as left Central Command!"

Mustang shook his head. "This is much more complicated than my busy schedule, Alphonse. You know that."

"There's gotta be some way around the-"

"What do you think we've been doing all this time? Waiting for the problem in Xerxes to resolve itself?" The general sighed. "I'm sorry. But we're doing all we can."

Al looked away. He was aware of the futility of their situation, but that didn't stop him from wishing it away.

When the three adults finally let him in on their plan, Alphonse had felt something he hadn't for a long time: hope. Now that feeling had gone stale, along with their abandoned ideas.

They intended to leave for Xerxes within the week. That was when the bomb that was the Han clan had dropped, setting their scheme back months.

After the Promised Day, Ling Yao had gone back to Xing. He told the Emperor of his adventures and discoveries in Amestris, and the ruler had spent his final days enjoying the company of the young prince.

After the Emperor's death, Ling had been crowned as the new sovereign. Al had been happy for his friend.

The Han clan could not say the same.

Al remembered finding out about the situation in Xerxes like it had happened the day before.

The blonde had practically run into the same hotel room he was in now. Of course, then he'd thought they would be in the ruined city by Thursday.

He'd thrown open the door only to become extremely confused. The general had one hand covering his face. Hawkeye was writing what looked to be a military report as Izumi paced the room angrily.

"... of all places! They can't just handle their political problems in their own damn country, no, they have to make some huge statement."

"What's going on?" asked Al cautiously, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. Izumi spun around looking positively murderous.

"What's going on?" she cried. The woman picked up the daily newspaper and threw it at him. "See for yourself."

A puzzled Al looked to the front page and felt his heart sink.

"Han Clan Rejects New Emperor" read the title.

The article went on to describe how, after being without an heir for the past hundred years, and therefore, losing the ability to ever become royalty, the Han clan had fled the country, choosing to create their own. They had crossed the desert as one and made their home somewhere they could simply rebuild rather than start anew.

The entire Han clan was now repopulating Xerxes.

The Ishvalan people, who were taking refuge there had welcomed the political pariahs with open arms. Xing had nothing to do with the Civil War between Amestris and Ishval, so they saw no reason to be hostile.

Ling still considered the Han clan to be a part of Xing, and made it clear that if Amestris attempted to interfere in this delicate situation, they would make a powerful enemy. Hence the current standstill.

Amestrian diplomats were trying to resolve this predicament peacefully with very little success.

Mustang clearing his throat brought Al back to the present. "As for your question, Izumi, I wasn't able to be here at the agreed upon time because I was attempting to contact… Jacqueline."

Al scoffed. "Your contact. Right. Why won't you tell us who they are? There's no poi-"

"It's Havoc. Jacqueline is Jean Havoc," sighed the general. "He wanted a mission. I wanted someone I trusted on the inside. So I sent him to check out the phenomenon that connected Xerxes to Ed."

That stopped the teen in his tracks. "Why-?"

"Why am I telling you this now?" finished Mustang. "Because he's gone missing. I haven't been able to get ahold of him for a week and a half."

The room went silent.

Then Izumi began to laugh. "You're such an idiot," she said, shaking her head."

Irritated, the general opened his mouth to answer, but Izumi continued before he could get a word out.

"You sent this Havoc guy though the military, right?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do w-?"

"You're not the only one who's going to care that a soldier has gone MIA. And who better to send to find him than his commanding officer?"

Mustang froze. A smile spread across his face. "I'm going to make a call," he said, standing up.


	14. Chapter 14

It had been a while since Ed had been forced to go to the dungeons. After his fainting spell the night before, his illness had returned with full force. Whatever magic shit Snape had given him was now useless.

He was no longer used to this, the constant taste of iron, the pulsing headache. But Edward soldiered on, after all, what else could he do?

Well, aside from going back to Snape, which was exactly what he did.

The Potions Professor turned at the sound of Edward storming into his office. The blonde threw the door open and slammed a familiar flask on Snape's desk.

"What are you doing here, Elric?" he drawled, unimpressed.

"It doesn't work."

"Excuse me?"

"The… stuff you gave me. It doesn't work anymore."

"What do you mean, it doesn't work?"

Edward coughed into his hand, effectively shutting Snape up. "See?" he wheezed, but was unable to go on.

After what seemed like forever, the coughing subsided, and Ed frowned at his blood soaked glove. "I've only got one of these," he muttered, taking it off and ignoring Snape's wide eyes.

It was soon after that Edward left the dungeons with a flask filled with a different potion than the last, one that somehow managed to taste worse than the other.

…

"The entire room is a forest?"

"Well, not a forest exactly… it's like a clearing or something… I dunno."

Ron turned away from Hermione's amused look. "It's hard to describe. You have to see it."

Hermione shook her head, laughing. "Honestly, it's terrible what Umbridge did to Trelawney, and wonderful how Dumbledore handled the situation, but Divination is still a joke, no matter who teaches it."

She turned toward a hall. "Wrong way," said Ron, pointing to the left.

"No, I have a-"

"Another extra lesson?" cried the red haired boy incredulously.

"Yes, I've made a breakthrough," said Hermione brightly. "I've finally been able to understand the alchemical array for getting water from the ground! It's fantastic."

"Yeah, great. Now you can make puddles."

"Oh, shut up. You're just jealous."

Ron colored, his ears turning pink. "What makes you think that?" he said indignantly. Hermione smiled.

"You can barely turn a piece of wood into a statue, that's why!"

"Oh, of…" he muttered, then a delayed, "Hey! I can do that!"

"Sure!" called Hermione as she made her way down the corridor. She was nearly at Edward's office when Neville approached her.

"Hermione?" he asked nervously.

"Yes, Neville?" she replied, curious as to why he seemed anxious.

He fidgeted a bit. "I- uh. I heard that you were having extra lessons with Professor Elric."

"Yes, that's true," answered the girl slowly.

"Well, I was just wondering… um…. Is he okay?"

"What?"

"I haven't talked to him in a while, and I'm afraid that he… Well, he looked like he was getting better, but now…"

"What is it, Neville?"

"Now, I think it's come back."

"What's come back?"

The round-faced boy looked up, eyes wide. "I- I thought you knew," he said, turning away.

"Neville," she said sternly, causing the boy in question to shift his gaze back to Hermione. "What is it?"

Neville took a deep breath.

…

Ed didn't look away from his papers when he heard his office door open. "Hermione, have you tried the Verity code yet? It seems like something he would use."

When no answer came, he glanced upwards. "Hermione?"

The girl jumped at the sound of her name. "What was that?" she asked.

Ed cocked an eyebrow. "I asked if you'd tried the Verity code. You okay?"

"Mm? Oh, yes. Fine. And you?"

"Alright," Edward answered warily.

That set the mood for the rest of the evening. The pair worked in silence for nearly an hour until, at a cough from Edward, Hermione's head shot in the air. "What?" asked the professor, confused. She snatched his left hand out of the air.

Eyes wide, Ed realized too late what Hermione had done.

The bushy-haired girl studied his now-bloodstained white glove, looking slightly sick. "So it's true…" she mused. After a long moment, she tore her gaze away and let his hand go. "I'm so stupid!" she cried. "'Do you know what could make someone cough up blood?' He wasn't talking about 'someone back home' he was talking about you. It all makes sense now." Hermione scoffed. "I should have known."

She took a deep breath, then looked Ed straight in the eye. "Professor, you have to go the hospital wing."

"Hermione…"

"What? You're obviously sick, and Madame Pomfrey can help you!"

"I'm fine, okay? It's just a little bit of blood."

"Sure," said the Gryffindor sarcastically. "I suppose that's what you told Neville? At the beginning of the year?"

"Neville?" The blonde groaned and put his face in his hands. "I knew I never should have told him…" he muttered. "Please, Hermione, just don't say anything. I've already got enough trouble, and besides…" Ed trailed off. He was going to say something about whatever the hell it was that Snape was giving him, but that didn't seem to be doing much of anything. Hermione wouldn't believe him, even if it was true.

"Sir, you can't expect me to keep quiet about something that may be killing you! I don't want you to die!"

"I don't intend to," the professor growled, getting annoyed. "It's all under control."

"Under control? In what-?"

"Drop it."

His voice was so harsh, Hermione actually jumped. She set her jaw. "Professor… Edward, I'm not going to let this go, and for all of your protesting, I don't think you can just give up either. Now explain to me what's going on so I can at least try to help you."

Hermione's intensity was so alarming, he didn't know what to say. There was a moment filled with tension. Then Edward laughed.

"What?" snapped Hermione, irritated.

"You make a good case. I'm not sure I can argue with that. Or if I even want to." He considered her briefly. "Alright. Ask away."

…

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

Phineas Nigellus Black shrugged his shoulders lazily, examining one painted hand. "As far as I can tell, all he ever does is research in the library. I can't follow the boy into his office or his classroom. There are no pictures there." He smiled predatorily at Professor Umbridge. "You didn't think your plan was foolproof, did you Dolores?"

The pink-clad woman's face turned the same shade as her cardigan. "I asked you to follow Edward Elric and find out what he's really teaching the students. You have failed."

"If I recall correctly- and I know I do- you simply asked me to 'keep tabs on him'. I have done all I can. Also, remember that I am helping you, and can stop at any time," drawled the painting.

The High Inquisitor clenched her jaw. "My apologies, Phineas. I did not mean to presume."

Phineas went back to his nails, huffing. Umbridge began pacing the abomination that was her office. "If I found a way to get you into his classroom, would you do it?" she proposed, pleading.

The ex-headmaster heaved a dramatic sigh. "I suppose."

Umbridge gave a grotesque smile.

…

Hermione looked at Edward with wide eyes. "You're from another dimension? And your father is Nicholas Flamel?"

Ed frowned. "Well, Van Hohenheim. And he wasn't much of a father."

The girl shook her head. "My God… You committed human transmutation? Twice?"

"Yeah…Not exactly my best idea, but the second time was necessary."

"And that's what got you sent here? From… what was it?"

"Amestris."

"Amestris." She gasped suddenly, her eyes brightening with recognition. "Oh! You mentioned it once when…" She stopped, reverting back to her previous state of confusion. "And that's… in another dimension? And you know you can get back because your father did?"

"That's what I'm hoping." The blonde looked away. "Then again, he is a philosopher's stone."

"He's a…?"

"I told you-" Ed was interrupted by his office door opening. None other than Dolores Umbridge herself stepped through, carrying a large square.

"What the hell are you doing here?" shouted Edward, standing up.

"I could ask the same of you, Miss Granger," said the High Inquisitor through pursed lips. "Teachers are not allowed to give-"

"I'm teaching her alchemy. I'm allowed to do that, right?" asked the blonde.

Umbridge frowned deeply. "Yes, well, Miss Granger, please report back to your common room presently. I would like to speak to Professor Elric. Alone."

Hermione started. She was still in a daze from all of the information she had just learned. "Right, sorry Ma'am," she said, gathering up her things. She nearly dropped her copy of the journal in her haste, but picked it up and practically ran from the room.

With Hermione gone, Ed turned to the only other person in his classroom. "Alright, what is it?" he sighed. Umbridge straightened.

"I am aware that our relationship has been… strained," she tried.

The blonde laughed. "That's a nice way of putting it."

"Yes, well… I wish to make amends. I come with an olive branch, if you will." She turned her square around to reveal a painting. It depicted a party scene, complete with laughing guests and a lit chandelier.

"Um… okay. Thanks, I guess?" said Edward, wary.

Umbridge smiled wolfishly, looking at the walls. "I think it would look lovely right about here, don't you?" she asked, bustling over to the wall next to his desk.

"Sure…?"

"Wonderful!" The High Inquisitor performed a quick charm, sealing the painting to the wall indefinitely. "We got off on the wrong foot, Edward. I hope that this… peace offering can pave the way towards friendship!"

With that, Umbridge took her leave. Ed looked around, wondering exactly what had just happened.

The young professor approached the painting, examining it closely. It was a typical wizard painting, in the 'all of the people move' sense, which Ed still wasn't quite used to. One of the picture's subjects, a tipsy woman in a pink dress, slurred, "What're you lookin' at?" and the blonde jumped back.

"They talk…?" he whispered, incredulous. "Is that some sort of complex soul bind or…?" Edward stopped. "Right. Magic."

…

Al sighed as he walked into the apartment complex. He'd been putting this off all day. But after he'd finished his packing- it didn't take long, he couldn't take much to the desert- the blonde knew he had to talk to Winry.

He hoped she would be happy that they were making progress in finding his brother, but something told Al that Winry wouldn't be so excited about going back to waiting and worrying.

Steeling himself, Al put up his hand to knock, but paused. Did Winry really need to know where he was going? There was no sense in getting her hopes up, after all, if Xerxes didn't pan out, she'd be devastated. Really, there was no reason, no reason at all-

The door opened. "Al!" cried a startled Winry, keys in hand.

"Hey, Winry…"

"What brings you here?"

Al looked into her blue eyes, filled with pleasant surprise, and knew he couldn't lie to her. 'You guys never tell me anything,' she used to say.

"I'm leaving."

"Huh?"

"I'm going to Xerxes tomorrow."

"What? Why?"

"We're not sure, and it's a long shot, but the General's heard some stuff…"

"What are you talking about Al?" The girl sounded worried now.

"Ed might be there."

Winry froze. The blood drained from her face. Her knuckles went white as she held her keys in a grip that had to be painful. Al caught a glimpse of her setting her jaw before she turned around and went back into her apartment.

"Winry, what're you doing?" the boy asked cautiously, following her inside.

"I'm coming with you."

"Winry…"

"I'm coming."

Alphonse had predicted this, it was exactly what he'd hoped to avoid. But as he watched his childhood friend pace around the room, all of his planned arguments turned stale. "Please-"

"I know I can't fight, okay? I know that. But I also know that you need me." Winry whirled around, her eyes blazing with emotion. "He's been coming to me for repairs for years. If your alchemy could fix automail, you'd never have come back to Resembool. I'm the only one who can do it. And if he's broken his arm, which, knowing him, he probably has, you're going to need a mechanic."

Al opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't think of a retort. For the umpteenth time, he wished Edward was there. He'd know exactly what to say. Of course, if Ed was there, there would be no need for argument.

Then again, even Al's arrogant older brother would have a hard time combating Winry's rhetoric. She made a good point. There were few places less hospitable for metal limbs than a scorching, sandy desert. If Edward was anywhere in or around Xerxes, there would be little doubt about the condition of his automail.

"Are you going to say anything?" asked Winry. Her back was to him again, but Al could see her keys had been replaced by her wrench.

He sighed. "Mustang won't be happy. But I'll see what I can do."


	15. Chapter 15

A-08. I didn't forget it this time, I made sure.

Maybe he's dead.

Screwdriver.

No. Don't think like that.

B-14. That fell on the floor, didn't it? But I found it. Good thing I did inventory.

Alchemy freak. He's probably just out there studying stuff and forgot to call. He never calls.

Wrench. Haven't worked with this one in a while, but it's the only one I can use on… his arm.

This could be nothing. Maybe it's just some sort of desert phenomena and he's never even been here. Maybe-

"Winry?"

The girl was shaken from her thoughts by a concerned Al. His head was slightly cocked, his eyes - so like his brother's, but with none of their hardness - inquisitive. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She laughed slightly. "You know, he's still got my earrings."

"What?"

"My earrings. I took them off and gave them to him when we were up north, so I wouldn't get frostbite from the cold." Winry looked down at the saddle of her horse. "I'll bet he's lost them by now," she whispered, her mind far from jewelry. To her horror, the mechanic felt tears pooling in her eyes, and she swiped at them furiously.

"Winry—" Al began, but was cut off.

"OH, WINRY ROCKBELL!"

The girl in question looked up, any signs of grief obliterated by confusion.

"THE PURE LOVE AND DEVOTION THAT HAS INSPIRED YOU TO MAKE THE TREACHEROUS JOURNEY ACROSS THIS GREAT DESERT IS POSITIVELY MOVING!" cried Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong, throwing off his shirt. Tears streaming down his chiseled face, he continued.

"MY HEART IS BURSTING WITH SYMPATHY AND COMPASSION, MY DEAR GIRL! I SIMPLY CANNOT-!"

"Oh, shut up!" shouted Winry, braining the large man with her wrench and blushing furiously.

Izumi sighed angrily and rolled her eyes. She knew that working with Mustang came with conditions, one of which being that he assembled his own team. She was also aware that she wouldn't always agree with his choices, like allowing Ed's little girlfriend to come along.

But at least Winry was quiet, and had some prospect of being useful.

Armstrong, however…

"…DENYING YOUR TRUE FEELINGS? THAT IS NO WAY…"

Izumi turned to Mustang and called, "If he doesn't shut up now, I will pull that stupid little hair loop out of his shining, empty head."

The general looked like he was unsure whether to laugh or to be afraid. He elected for a nervous chuckle.

"Lieutenant Colonel, we have a long journey ahead of us. I recommend you do not waste all of your fluids before we reach Xerxes," said Hawkeye without looking behind her.

Armstrong froze in the middle of his rave, and, properly admonished, pulled his shirt back on.

Izumi snorted, turning back to the road ahead. Though Mustang had said Armstrong was there as muscle, she sometimes wondered if his true purpose was entertainment.

Remembering the task at hand, the housewife replaced her small smile with a scowl.

Ed better be on the other side of this damned desert so I can kill him for making me travel with this idiot.

…

"... to put it simply, if you don't have all the parts, you can't have the whole. You can see how that would be a problem in practical alchemy. Now, get to…" Ed trailed off, annoyance flashing across his face. The alchemist scanned the room suspiciously, but couldn't seem to find anything out of place.

"Professor?" asked Colin Creevey. "What is it?"

"Nothing, I… Is there anyone new here?"

"Um, not that I know of, sir."

Edward frowned, gave the classroom one last looking over, then turned back to the class. "Never mind. Okay, get to work."

The blonde did not hear a chuckle from a certain portrait, who smiled and sat further back in his seat.

Taking a sip of his champagne, Phineas watched as the students replaced their wands with chalk, drawing some strange symbol on a strip of metal before pressing their hands to it.

The ex-headmaster was about to roll his eyes when Ginny Weasley's face was bathed in light and her piece of metal turned into a model of a flower.

Phineas fell out of his chair.

"Nice, Ginny! You're getting the hang of this," said Edward, inspecting the flower. "Now, see if you can transmute this-" he handed the statuette back to the Gryffindor-"Into a… let's say a horse."

The pride in the girl's expression turned to confusion. "But I can't draw a circle on a flower, sir."

"Draw on the table. We're going to be getting into alchemy on things you can't sketch on, like broken objects, pretty soon, so you're getting a headstart."

Ginny smiled. "I'll try, professor."

Ignoring the champagne seeping into his painted clothes, Phineas watched this exchange in total bewilderment. He'd barely understood a word that was said, but he found himself wishing that he had.

…

As they rode into Xerxes, Al could hardly believe that this thriving metropolis had once been ruins. People filled the streets, bustling from shop, to open market, to the homes they had created from a combination of once-destroyed buildings and their own Han clan had arrived in Xerxes only three months before, and they had already turned it into a city.

The group of Amestrians dismounted their horses, each looking about in amazement.

"This is just the edge…" breathed Winry, eyes wide.

The wonder-filled moment was broken when Mustang said, "Well, we have a job to do. Let's go."

Before they entered the city, Hawkeye warned, "Remember, Xerxes is extremely politically unstable. Amestrians are not exactly welcome." She gave a pointed look at Armstrong. "I'd recommend keeping your shirt on, Lieutenant Colonel."

Pulling on the hoods of their cloaks, they made their way into the city. Amidst the awe-inspiring sights, it was easy to forget that Xerxes was not the best place to be Amestrian.

The inner part of Xerxes was even more incredible, the meeting of cultures apparent everywhere. Traditional Xingese architecture combined with the desert structures of the long-dead Xerxians, creating something entirely new.

"So, where to start?" asked Izumi.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc said that he'd discovered the place of intrigue and sent us coordinates. The best course of action would be to follow them," stated Hawkeye simply.

After searching for nearly an hour, the small group found the spot.

Despite its proximity to the edge of the city, it was completely devoid of people. The remains of a shrine stretched towards the sky, and drawn on one of the walls- "That's a transmutation circle!"

The others turned to match Al's gaze. The array was more complicated than anything he'd ever seen. The blonde boy looked down. "That must be what dad used…" he muttered. It certainly matched Ed's description.

"Where's this 'Jaqueline' of yours?" asked Izumi.

"He should be here…" said Mustang, searching for his subordinate. All he found were unintelligible signs in Xingese.

"Um… General Mustang?" asked Winry quietly.

"What is it?"

"Isn't that him?"

The general whirled around to see the last thing he was expecting. Havoc was, in fact, there.

He was not alone.

It was with wide eyes that General Mustang watched his subordinate passionately kiss a young Xingese woman. They sat on a picnic blanket, a bottle of wine and two glasses next to them.

Roy stormed across the clearing, his murderous expression matched only by Izumi's. "This is the guy you've been waiting on?" she asked. At a nod from Hawkeye, the alchemist followed the general.

Havoc broke away from the woman, smiling. He noticed something out of the corner of his eye and looked up. "General!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "What're you doing here?"

"Havoc…" started Roy, his voice carefully controlled. "What is going on?"

The Second Lieutenant looked confused for a moment, then brightened. "Oh!" He grinned widely. "Everybody, meet my wonderful girlfriend!"

…

Classes were over and all of the students had left, but that nagging sensation of being watched certainly had not.

Ed looked up from his papers - he'd done this many more times than he'd like to admit - to look around. Once again, he found no one.

A few moments later, the feeling returned. The alchemist took a deep breath, not looking up. He continued scrawling things onto the parchment, albeit much harder than was necessary.

Philosopher's... stone… could… be- "Damn," Edward whispered as his pen poked a hole into the paper. Clapping his hands, the blonde closed the opening, then went back to his angry writing.

"How did you do that?"

The blonde's head shot up, and searched the classroom. Once again, no one was there. He shook his head. Paracusia. That's a new one, he thought, mentally adding auditory hallucinations to his list of ailments.

"Are you going to answer me, boy?"

Ed threw his pen down and stood up. "Who said that?"

"I am right here," drawled the voice, sounding bored.

Ed whirled around and found himself face to face with Umbridge's ghastly painting. At the edge of the party scene, a decidedly sinister-looking man smirked back, holding a tall glass of champagne. "I am astonished it took you this long to find me."

Golden eyes enlarged with fury. "It was you! You're the one who's been spying on me!"

"I would hardly call it spying. I never attempted to hide. You lack observational skills."

"I knew it! I knew I wasn't just imagining it!" Ed wheeled on the painting. "Wait- why?" His expression turned murderous. "Did Umbitch put you up to this?"

The painting chuckled. "I suppose that is an… apt name for her."

This prompted a long string of mutterings about the various punishments Edward planned to inflict upon the High Inquisitor.

"Now, are you going to answer my question?"

"Huh?" The blonde had nearly forgotten the portrait in his rage. The man rolled his eyes.

"I asked you how you mended your parchment. I answered your questions, now-"

"- I'll answer yours. Equivalent exchange." Ed breathed a sigh. "It's called alchemy, and if you're telling that toad about this, make sure to remind her that what I teach is a science, not any of your damned magic."

The painted man waved a hand. "I am no longer in her employ. She is a simpering idiot, and I have decided she is not worth of my time. She seems intent on destroying my school, and as for you, well, the enemy of my enemy and all that."

"You've been following me for months- months! ..and…and... Hang on, your school?"

"Yes, I am Phineas Nigellus Black, headmaster of Hogwarts from 1878 to 1925, when I regrettably met my end. Now, tell me about this science of yours."

Ed opened his mouth, likely to yell at Phineas, but was interrupted by a loud crack!

The blonde turned to see the strangest creature he'd ever laid eyes on, and that was saying something.

"Professor Elric, sir!" cried a squeaky voice.

The blonde was struck dumb, and could only stare. Giant green orbs stared back.

"Wh-what are you?" asked the young professor.

"Haven't you ever seen a house elf before, boy?" droned Phineas, spinning his glass.

"A what?"

The thing ignored him. "Miss Hermione Granger sent Dobby to deliver a message, Professor Elric, sir! Miss Hermione Granger said that it was urgent!"

That got Ed's attention. "What did Hermione say?"

The creature- Dobby?- continued. "Miss Hermione said to not come to the Room of Requirement tonight. Pro-Professor Umbridge…" It seemed to have some sort of internal struggle, until Ed filled in the blank.

Golden eyes filled with fury, he grabbed the house elf by its tea cozy. "What did she do?"

The terrified creature could only whimper.

"Did she find them?"

It nodded. The moment Edward let it go, it tried to slam its head into his desk. "Bad Dobby!" it cried, as the blonde rushed towards the door.

He was almost outside when Ed found himself frozen by some invisible force. "The hell…?" he muttered, trying to get his legs to move, but they remained fixed to the floor.

Edward turned his head to see that Dobby had stopped abusing himself. The elf stood with one stick-thin arm out; his expression, serious.

"Are you doing this?" asked the blonde, radiating anger.

"Miss Hermione also said that Dobby was to keep Professor Elric from getting involved."

Indignance flashed across the alchemist's face. "Getting involved? I am involved! Now let me go!"

Dobby frowned. "Getting involved further," he corrected.

Ed took a deep breath, trying his best not to explode on the elf. Don't shoot the messenger. Right. "Dobby…"

"Miss Hermione does not wish for you to get sacked, Professor Elric, sir. Miss Hermione said that 'you still have people waiting for you.'"

The blonde choked on his retort.

That simple message beat Dobby's spell in terms of keeping Edward in the room. This school was his only lead on how to get home. He had no reason to get himself thrown out, and had absolutely no plan if he was. Ed thought of Al and Winry. He sighed.

"I won't make a break for it if you let me go," said Edward, hoping Dobby would believe the truth.

It seemed the creature was either incredibly naive or incredibly wise, as Ed felt his invisible bonds disappear. His last glimpse of the house elf's sad smile left the alchemist wondering exactly which one.

…

Mustang stared at his subordinate in disbelief. "Havoc… I sent you here to gather intelligence, not find yourself a date." He sighed. "Please tell me you found something."

"Well," began the second lieutenant. "I did find Jiao Han, and she's just fantastic!" he cried, referring to the dark-haired woman on the picnic blanket. She smiled and blushed.

Izumi felt her eye twitch. "Mustang… you dragged me across the desert to learn about this idiot's love life?"

"Havoc…" the general warned.

"No, you don't understand. Jiao isn't just my girlfriend - though she is my girlfriend," he grinned drunkenly. "- she's also been doing some work on the inside. She's been really helpful! In fact… Jiao, would you like to tell them?"

The girl stood up, brushing herself off. "I'd love to, sweetheart!" She spoke in perfect Amestrian, with only the slightest trace of an accent.

Jiao looked back at the rest of the group, growing serious. "I work for Aiguo Han. He is one of the men negotiating with Amestris and Xing. I'm very good at research and paperwork, so I'm usually the one telling him what to sign.

"A few months ago, I started receiving strange accounts from people all across New Xerxes. They'd seen flashes of light in the far side of town, where few people lived."

"New Xerxes?" asked Al.

"It is what we are calling our new country. Anyways, I decided to look into these reports myself. My employer is very busy, and I am very curious, so I thought it would be more prudent.

"I went a couple times before anything happened. On my third trip, I was about to leave when… I am unsure of how to describe it. It looked like a geyser, but made of light rather than water. It flared up in the middle of the plaza we are in now, and had a very… interesting signature."

"What do you mean, signature?" questioned Izumi, skeptical.

Jiao frowned. "In Xing, even children who are not Alkahestrists are educated in the Dragon's Pulse. We are able to sense certain energies, when they are connected to chi, life energy. But this… it wasn't Alkahestry."

"Was it alchemy?" asked Mustang, his expression grave.

"There was alchemy. But there was also something else I cannot quite describe. It all happened so fast, I barely had time to register it. When I returned to my office, I requested the area be cordoned off. Aiguo permitted it after hearing my story, and it was put to bed...well, at least for him.

"I couldn't get the image of that gleaming pillar out of my mind. So, I went back a few days later, and the light came back as well. I didn't know how lucky I was at the time, and thought that it appeared whenever I did. Then, on my third trip…" she smiled knowingly. "On my third trip, the glow had died down after nearly ten minutes. When it ended, I didn't leave right away. I hoped that the light, and that strange energy signature, might return." Jiao turned to Havoc."

The officer beamed back and then chimed in. "By then, I'd heard about the banned place in town, and realized that was probably the location of the weird phenomena. It took me a while, 'cause I had to keep a low profile, but I talked to one of the Amestrian diplomats, and she told me about the rumors.

"I went to the spot, but instead of lights, I saw what I could have sworn was a goddess! Of course, it was Jiao, so I wasn't too far off the mark. I approached her, and one thing led to another..."

"Havoc…" warned the superior officer.

"Right. Ah, things in the city started getting pretty crazy. The diplomat I talked to was beat halfway to hell, and Amestrian hatred was all over the place, so I've had to hide out here. Jiao's been taking care of me, and boy, is she good at it!"

"Jean!"

"It's true!"

A deep voice suddenly cried, "THE ROSE OF YOUNG LOVE CAN BLOOM EVEN IN THE HARSH DESERT! LIEUTENANT HAVOC, MS. HAN, I AM OVERCOME WITH SYMPATHETIC JOY! AFTER-!"

Izumi pushed Armstrong out of the way and grabbed Havoc by the collar. "You mean to say that you've never even seen this thing?"

"Nope!"

"And our 'lead' is some young girl's overactive imagination?"

Jiao glared at the housewife. "Young girl? I assure you, I am highly respected in my clan… I mean, my country. I would never make things up just for… for… attention!"

Izumi let go of the second lieutenant, her glare now directed towards Jiao.

"Respect doesn't mean credibility. Our Fuhrer was a homunculus, and he was the most highly-respected man in the nation."

"Do not pull me into the affairs of your country!"

"Yes, because yours is so much better."

The conversation went downhill from there.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc?" said a small voice.

The man in question turned to see a vaguely familiar boy. "Sorry, who are you?"

The boy laughed quietly. "It's me, Alphonse."

Havoc gasped. "Al? I heard you got your body back, but…"

"Yeah," said the boy, scratching the back of his head. "I know I look different, but it is me. It's good to see you standing again." He looked down. "Do you think that these… lights have anything to do with brother?"

"I'm not sure, kid. There's no real way of knowing, not until we see 'em. But we can hope, right?"

That didn't raise Alphonse's spirits, but he smiled nonetheless.

"According to Jiao, the phenomenon usually happens somewhere around this plaza, but I haven't seen it once." Havoc turned his gaze to the ruins. "It's supposed to be random, but there's gotta be some sort of pattern, I know it."

The officer glared at the transmutation circle on the wall. "I think it might have something to do with that thing. It looks like those symbols you alchemists draw, the circle things. But it's too detailed to-"

"I doubt that's what causing it," said Al.

"Why d'ya say that?"

"I… it's a long story."

Havoc held out his hands. "It's not like we're going anywhere," he said, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

…

"... my relationship with Jean has not affected my ability to-" Jiao stopped mid-sentence, turning around.

"Don't you dare turn-!"

The Xingese woman's eyes grew wide with horror. "Jean!" she screamed.

He looked back at her. "What's going-?"

A geyser of light erupted from the dry ground. Spirals of white lightning flew from the pillar, making it far too bright to look at. The wind howled, sand soaring into the air.

This was exactly what they had wanted to happen, but not a person there was happy. For right in the middle of this strange phenomenon was Jean Havoc.

The light dissipated as soon as it had appeared. The small group looked around the plaza.

Havoc was nowhere in sight.


	16. Chapter 16

As Professor Edward Elric was paraded down the halls of Hogwarts in handcuffs, surrounded by aurors, the students of Dumbledore's Army could only watch.

The blonde was silent; his face, one of grim determination. Umbridge was at the head of the group, her smile insufferably smug. As they reached the courtyard, a crowd of students formed, whispering amongst themselves.

"What are you doing?" Neville Longbottom pushed his way through the throng. "Why are you-?"

"Speaking out of turn, are we?" If Umbridge's smile had been bad, it was nothing compared to her voice. "Mm, I suppose a week's detention should set you straight." The professor stopped, letting the procession of guards and prisoner continue as she addressed the students.

"Now, I am sure that Mister Longbottom here is not the only one with questions. I was planning on answering them at dinner tonight, but since it was so rudely brought up-" she glared at Neville- "I fear I have little choice in the matter."

Clearing her throat with a little "Hem, hem," the pink-clad woman paused for dramatic effect. "Professor Elric has been arrested for treason against the Ministry of Magic," she proclaimed with an air of triumph.

Murmurs broke out, even louder than before. "Treason?" cried Hermione.

"BULLSHIT!" called the Weasley twins at the same time.

"Language! Ten points from Gryffindor, each!"

It looked as though Umbridge really should have saved the announcement for dinner, as the crowd was looking more and more like an angry mob. "Students are to return to their common rooms immediately! Do not make me repeat myself!" There was an unmistakable trace of fear in her cry. "I am headmistress! I hold the highest office in this school!" she yelled, though it sounded as though she was trying to convince herself more than anyone.

Umbridge was lucky the aurors had not ventured too far ahead. She never would have been able to control the students without them.

…

"Treason? Treason? I'd bet my Firebolt that she was just using that as an excuse to get rid of him," shouted Harry, pacing a hole in the floor of the Gryffindor common room.

"I wouldn't take that bet," muttered Ron, who had been glaring into the fire far longer than was healthy.

"She was afraid of him," said Hermione. She scribbled something in a book she'd taken to carrying around before continuing. "He doesn't use magic, and besides, the students like him just as much as they hate her." She frowned. "Well, most of the students."

Harry suddenly stopped pacing. "What if she found out about Professor Elric and the DA?" he asked, looking vaguely sick.

With a shake of her head Hermione answered, "Don't torture yourself with that. It would have happened eventually."

Ron looked to the girl, who was once again writing in her book. "How can you be so calm? Professor Elric has been arrested! Arrested! He could get… He could be sent to Azkaban, with the Ministry like it is now!"

Hermione closed her eyes just a second too long for a blink, holding her quill in a grip far tighter than necessary. "Yes, it's possible. But we can't change that, can we, Ron?"

The redhead in question scrambled for words as the girl snapped the notebook shut and stormed into the girls dormitory.

Hermione took a shaky breath and sat down on her bed. She opened the book to a page somewhere in the middle. Nicholas Flamel's indecipherable journal entries stared back at her.

You better know what you're doing, she thought, trying to push her final conversation with the young professor to the back of her mind and failing miserably. It's my fault if you get yourself killed.

…

Two days ago

"Professor Elric!" Hermione cried, throwing open the door to his classroom and storming inside. She held a newspaper in one hand, and as she started towards the head of the classroom, she began to unravel it.

"Professor, I…" The girl stopped when she caught sight of Edward. It looked as though he'd fallen asleep in his work, a mess of blonde hair and paper. Hermione debated on whether to wake him or not. He always seemed to have dark circles under his eyes, and-

Ed himself ended her dilemma by jumping up, a torn scrap of parchment reading, el's resea stuck to his forehead. "Hermione…?" he muttered, brushing the paper from his face. "What's goin' on?" In an instant, he looked fully awake and alert. "Does Umbridge know you're here? Did you sneak away? If she-"

"No, no, sir. It's the holidays, remember? We don't have classes."

"Right. Right, I forgot." He laughed, but the worry was not gone from his face. Stifling a cough, he continued. "So, what are you doing here? Is it the journal?"

Hermione looked at the paper in her hand. "No, it's… Well, I get the Prophet, you see."

At the blonde's blank look, she said, "The newspaper. In our world."

"Right. Go on."

"Anyway, I was reading the cover page, and I couldn't help but notice something." She laid the paper on his desk. "About halfway through the article, they mention-"

Hermione was cut off by Edward abruptly standing, snatching up the newspaper in gloved hands. "No…" he murmured, scanning the page.

"Professor?" asked the student.

The blonde whirled the paper to face her, pointing at the picture covering a large portion of the front page. It was of a man with spiky hair and a confused expression, looking back and forth in total bewilderment. "I know him!" Ed cried.

Hermione felt her eyes grow wide. "You do…?"

"Yeah, Havoc."

"Havoc? Is he dangerous?"

Edward looked up distractedly. "Hm? Oh, no. That's his name, Jean Havoc." He shook his head. "Wandering the halls… Havoc can walk?"

He continued to read the article, expression growing increasingly happy the further he read.

MUGGLE FOUND IN MINISTRY

On April the nineteenth, a muggle was discovered wandering the halls of the Ministry of Magic armed with a muggle weapon commonly known as a "gun." Though he claims to have no recollection of breaking in, it has been determined that this muggle is a spy from a foreign country.

"Throughout the interrogation, he kept talking about a place called Amestris. That was all we could get out of him, but the way he handled himself and his weapon suggest military training," said auror Kingsley Shacklebolt in an exclusive interview. "The spy's agenda is still unknown, but until we learn more, we are holding him in Azkaban. We feel this is the best possible place to hold the prisoner. It is extreme, but necessary. At the Ministry of Magic, we take our citizens' safety very seriously, and any threat to it must be prosecuted to the full extent of the law."

Word is still out on what this break in could mean, but the Ministry as a whole is preparing itself for - continued on page seven.

"Do you know what this means, Hermione?" asked Ed, smiling so wide it had to hurt. "It means there's a way in without alchemy. And if there's a way in, there's gotta be a way out!"

In all the time she'd known him, Hermione had never seen Edward as alive as he was then. Normally pale and gaunt, the young professor was flushed with excitement and elation.

The girl hated to play devil's advocate, but somebody had to. "But sir, how do you know this Jean Havoc entered this dimension without alchemy?"

Ed simply waved a hand in her direction. "That's just it! Havoc's a lieutenant! He understands alchemy about as well as Umbitch!" The boy laid the paper back on his desk, smoothing it out. "I have to see him. He's gotta know how he got here."

"Sir, your friend is being held in Azkaban! There's no way you'll be able to talk to him while he's in there!"

"Azkaban, Azkaban… where have I heard that before… Oh! Isn't that where all those followers of Volde-mold broke out? Some sort of prison?"

"Yes! It's the most heavily guarded place in the entire wizarding world! There's no way out, and no way in unless you're a prisoner."

"Those Death Eating guys got out."

"But they had Voldemort on their side, the most powerful dark wizard the world has ever known! I'm telling you-"

"You say there's no way in unless you're a prisoner?"

Hermione did not like the look on the professor's face. "Sir, you cannot be thinking of getting yourself sent to Azkaban on purpose! The dementors will kill you!"

"I don't care about demented guards! This could be my ticket home!"

The girl felt horror rise in her chest. She'd seen the reference to Amestris in the article that morning, and her first thought was to tell the professor. She had not expected the conversation to go in this direction. "They're not demented guards, they're dementors. Creatures that feed on and trap you in terrible memories."

Hermione caught sight of a faint flicker of fear in Edward's eyes, but it disappeared in moments. "It'll be worth it when I break out."

"You can't break out of Azkaban, Edward!"

"Yeah, that could be a problem." His face lit up- again. "There's a trial, isn't there?"

"Yes, but-"

"And that isn't held at this little prison, is it?"

"No, that's at the Ministry, but-"

"Then it's settled. I'll break out of the Ministry." Ed turned to the only painting on the classroom wall. "Phineas! I need your help!"

"Sir!" Hermione called, having never felt so helpless as she did in that moment.

"What do you want now, child?" drawled Phineas Nigellus Black. Hermione held in her surprise at seeing the familiar portrait and continued trying to get Edward's attention.

"I need you to feed Umbitch some false info."

"And why would I do a thing like that?"

"Because, you need something to report, and I need to get the hell outta here."

As the two argued, Hermione brought a hand over her mouth. This was not what she had expected, and most certainly not what she had wanted.

Finally, Phineas relented. "Fine. I suppose it has nothing to do with me. What do you wish for me to tell her?"

"Tell her… Tell her I said that the mission failed, and the Amestrian higher-ups aren't happy." said Ed, beaming. Then, to himself, "Now, if I can just-"

"Edward!"

The boy in question looked up from his desk.

"You can't do this! I- I won't allow it!" cried Hermione, tears pooling in her eyes. "Azkaban is not some sort of jail cell! It's hell for anyone with a spotted past, and from what little I know about you, I can tell it would kill you! You can't die!"

For once, Ed found himself speechless. "Hermione…"

"No! You can't… You just can't!" The girl shut her eyes tight, ignoring the tears falling down her face. She'd seen what dementors had done to people, how they'd almost ruined Harry. Hermione had never known someone as scarred as Edward, and she knew the dementors would have a feast. "Please…"

Despite his being a professor, Ed had become one of her close friends. Hermione did not want to lose him.

Hermione opened her eyes when she was enveloped in a hug. "I'm sorry. I know how you feel, seeing someone march off to what looks like certain death." Edward pulled away and gave her a bittersweet smile. "But this could be my only chance. And besides, Havoc doesn't deserve to be stuck in hell either. I gotta get him out too."

Ed sighed. "Look, we both know I'm probably not going to last another year," he said, looking at the ground. "But if I'm gonna die, I'd rather have it be on my own terms."

"Don't say that," whispered Hermione.

Shaking his head, Edward said, "You should get back to your common room. You don't want to be around when Umbitch gets the news." He saluted. "I'll be seeing you. Or I won't. Say goodbye to everyone for me."

Just as she was about to leave, Ed said, "Oh! Hey, bring this back to the library for me, will ya? I won't be needing it after all." He tossed Flamel's journal to the student, smiled, and returned to his desk.

With a heavy heart and a tear-stained face, Hermione returned to the Gryffindor house.

…

Present

Hermione took out the leather-bound journal, nearly identical to her magic-made copy aside from her own notations. She hadn't returned it to the library after all.

She didn't think she would.

Hermione opened a bottle of ink. I've come this far, she thought. I'm not giving up on this now. She cracked open the copy and picked up a roll of parchment. I'm going to crack this code if it's the last thing I do.


	17. Chapter 17

To the Editor,

I would like to address the topic that has become quite popular recently: the imprisonment of a muggle in Azkaban. As a proud member of the wizarding community, I don't see what all the fuss is about.

An intruder was found in the Ministry of Magic, and that is simply something we cannot stand for. Non-magic or not, this person deserves to be punished. Letting them go with nothing more than a memory charm will not solve matters if this person is a spy.

This person, whoever he may be, could be working for something larger than himself. No muggle in the history of magic has ever wandered into the Ministry. It is unheard of. I believe that the muggle must have had the help of someone in the magical community. Otherwise, this heinous crime could never have occurred.

As for the arrest of ex- Hogwarts Professor Edward Elric, he was caught in the act of treason. There is no reason for uproar at his incarceration.

Turning against the ministry in these times will not lead to anything good. The best we can do is trust in the judgement of our leaders.

Signed, James Van Archwyn

…

In the wizard prison of Azkaban, people were always screaming. Screaming, crying, pleading, it was essentially one giant torture chamber. Cornelius Fudge was well aware of that fact.

But knowing and seeing are two completely different things.

Fudge did not want to spend any more time in Azkaban than he needed to, and despite the three aurors and four patronuses - theirs and his own - following him, the Minister couldn't help jumping every time he caught sight of a prisoner.

"Is that you, Daniel?" croaked a woman from behind bars. Her hair was stark white, her skin sunken. "I'm sorry!" she screeched suddenly. "I'm so, so sorry!"

Fudge startled at the noise, trying his best to ignore her.

"No! Not again! Please, Daniel! Come back! Come back!"

The Minister shut his eyes, then continued down the way. These people deserve it. They are hardened criminals who deserve to be imprisoned in this…

What was Azkaban?

Even without the dementors, it was still worse than any place Fudge had ever been. Cold, dark, dingy, it was hell on earth.

And that is why we need it. We need to keep the people in check. This is the perfect threat to hang over their heads, he thought, hoping it was true.

After a considerable amount of time, they reached their destination. One auror - Fudge wasn't sure of his name, something like Savage - retrieved a key from his robes and opened a cell.

Though there were no dementors around, all banished by the patronuses, Fudge couldn't help but glance around the lockup.

"Are you here for me?"

The Minister almost fell over when someone spoke.

A silvery cat, one of the aurors patronuses, illuminated a man. His face was smeared with dirt, his hair so filthy, it almost looked black. A lazy grin crossed the prisoner's face. "Got a cigarette?" he asked.

Fudge pursed his lips. "You are… the one who refers to himself as Havoc?"

A soft, croaking laugh. "'The one who refers to himself as Havoc.' That's my name, you know. Jean Havoc."

"We'll see."

"Look, I don't know what kind of crazy Xingese prison this is, or what kind of alchemy you're using, but-"

"Alchemy?"

Havoc frowned. "Sorry, alkahestry. That is what you call it, right?" He squinted. "Are you some sort of Amestrian traitor? You don't look Xingese."

"What is 'Xingese'? I've been told you consistently ask about that word, yet no one seems to know its meaning."

That earned an annoyed shake of the head. "Right. Okay, you're not Xingese. Let's go with that. You want to ask questions, ask away. Don't expect any answers."

Fudge glared at the prisoner. "Who do you work for?"

Silence.

"Do you answer to Edward Elric, or is he-?"

"Wait- what?" Havoc sputtered, looking towards the Minister with wide eyes. "Edward Elric?"

Fudge raised an eyebrow, trying not to let his triumph show. "He was taken into custody not long after you were. You did work together, did you not?"

Jean Havoc did not acknowledge his question. "He's here? I… Damn it, Ed…" he whispered, his expression a confused mix of violent and happy.

As Fudge watched the man think, he came to a sudden realization. Though he was covered in grime and looked as though he hadn't slept in a while, Havoc didn't appear nearly as affected by the dementors as the other prisoners. While the others he'd seen looked crazed and gaunt, Jean Havoc could be mistaken for healthy.

"Will that be all?"

Fudge was distracted from his thoughts by the sound of Havoc's voice. "No, that will most certainly-!"

"Sir," said Kingsley Shacklebolt from somewhere behind him. "We are running out of time."

After a deep breath of stale air that was immediately regretted, Fudge said, "Very well. That will be all." The Minister smiled. "I hope some more quality time with the dementors will loosen your tongue."

He exited the cell, then wished he hadn't, once again faced with the insane, blubbering convicts.

But the group forged on, making their way to another cell.

A scream rang out through the hall. It went on for longer than Fudge would have thought possible, then dissolved into mad laughter.

They turned a corner, only to take a large step back. Dementors, at least five, stood clustered around one cell. Undeterred by the patronuses, they hardly reacted when the Ministry workers neared them.

Dim snickering sounded from the cell the creatures were gathered near.

"That trick… gets old… don't you think?" a hoarse voice panted.

The aurors continued towards the holding cell, pushing their patronuses with them. The dementors didn't back down until the glowing animals were within a foot of them.

The beastly guards made a sound not unlike hissing before floating away.

Fudge took a few tentative steps forward before entering this cell and finding its inhabitant. Like Havoc, he was blonde and dirty, but that was as far as their similarities went. He was much younger, and if Havoc looked out of place, this child looked right at home among the other prisoners.

The Minister walked inside.

"The hell are you?" croaked the kid, sitting up and shooting Fudge a wary glance.

That took him aback, but Fudge responded with, "I am Cornelius Fudge."

There was a brief pause, then: "And?"

"And?"

"And, so? What is your name supposed to mean to me?"

"I am the Minister of Magic, boy. I should think you would know who I am."

A bark of laughter, then sharp coughing. "Sorry, but you… thought wrong." He cleared his throat, then spat on the floor. "Minister, huh? You must be pretty important, then."

"Yes, I am, in fact."

"So then why are you visiting me?"

Fudge gave him an even stare. "You have been charged with treason, of conspiring in a mystery we've been unable to solve for weeks. This is a matter of national security, Elric. Do you know what it is you've done?"

"Sure. I helped Havoc break into the Ministry. It is the Ministry, right?" He gave a lopsided grin. "Sorry, I only really remember what I want to remember."

"What was your reason for helping a muggle achieve access to the Ministry?"

Edward frowned. "I just…" He looked away, eyes distant. "I really liked the wallpaper in there, and I thought depriving the poor non-magic community of it was the real crime." He smirked. "The ends justify the means, sir."

Fudge breathed deeply, trying to contain his anger. "This is not a time for jokes. This is a-"

"-matter of national security, got it, got it." The blonde waved a hand. He turned back to the Minister. "Hey, aren't I supposed to get a trial?"

Opening his mouth to speak, Fudge hesitated. The kid's eyes - unnaturally golden - held more than just light humor. For the first time, he looked serious.

"Yes, there will be a trial, eventually. In the meantime, we are keeping you here."

"Seems shady. How's the public feeling about that bullshit?"

Fudge kept his face carefully controlled.

…

To the Editor,

The incarceration of Edward Elric and the muggle Jean Havoc is absolutely ludicrous. When have we ever placed a muggle in a wizard prison? If interrogation is absolutely necessary, there are much more humane places to hold people.

Edward Elric was caught conspiring against the Ministry, but no one seems to realize that he has been convicted without so much as a trial. Azkaban is a place for real criminals, not someone who hasn't even faced the Wizengamot.

"Innocent until proven guilty." This is the cornerstone of a justice system, and our possession of magic does not make us exempt. The Ministry is treading dangerous ground with this case.

I hope my fellow citizens can come to see how this is affecting our community, and what kind of image it promotes.

Sincerely,

Anne Kassidy

…

"This information is not available to the public."

"Right. Which means everyone knows." Edward looked at Fudge, his expression slightly amused. "They published everything about Havoc, of course the story's gonna keep on going. I know how the press works, Mister Minister."

"Yes, well… That is not important. Who do you work for?"

"Oh, right down to the details? Sorry, I don't answer to anyone. Definitely not you." The blonde leaned against the wall, looking towards the ceiling. "Sorry to dis-disappoint." He began coughing, face screwing up in pain. After a moment, Edward glanced at his hand and frowned. "Damn," he muttered, then looked back up to the Minister. "Are you still here?"

"Now look here! You do not get to dismiss me! I am the most powerful man in the magical community!"

"And I am locked in jail. Honestly, why should I care? S'not like I can do anything from- from here." The boy's eyes fluttered shut. "Have fun with… politics."

And with that, the blonde slumped to one side, unconcious. "Is he alive?" asked the Minister. Shacklebolt checked his pulse and nodded. "Not by much, but he's alive."

"I guess that puts an end to things," said Fudge, happy to be able to leave Azkaban. "I'll be seeing them both in court."

The Ministry workers left the prison as quickly as they possibly could.

…

"Anne Kassidy? Where'd you get that name from?"

Hermione did not look at her friend, instead, she kept her attention on her notebook. "I made it up, Ron. Honestly, a pseudonym is not hard to think of."

"But how the hell did you get it past Umbridge?"

"Simple spell. The paper looked like a letter to my parents until two days after I sent it. Then it changed back to the genuine article."

Ron looked at her, his mouth agape. "You're scary, you know that?"

"Yes, well."

"Hermione?" began Harry from his seat not far away. "What's in that book? You're always writing in it, and it doesn't look like a textbook."

The girl looked up and gave him a sad smile. "It's from when I was getting extra lessons from Professor Elric. Alchemy, and all that."

"Oh," Ron said, suddenly looking sour. "What's so special about it, then?"

Hermione turned to him sharply. "Are you learning anything from Umbridge's 'alchemy' lessons?"

That shut him up.

"It's much more informative than that old hag."

Of course, the book may have been from her lessons with Professor Elric, but Hermione had no idea whether it was filled with alchemical information or not. She was still no closer to cracking the code.

She'd tried nearly everything, but Flamel seemed to have come up with a cipher entirely of his own.

"Or it will be more informative," muttered Hermione under her breath, "eventually."


	18. Chapter 18

" _BROTHER!"_

_Lightning shoots from the circle as the two boys reach for each other, the younger dissolving before the elder's eyes._

" _ALPHONSE!"_

_He can see nothing beyond his brother, or what is left of him. Al is going, going, gone… and Ed is blind. There's a sense of crushing defeat, of denial, of sheer panic._ He can't be gone, he's all I have left, he can't… It can't be true, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real!

_It's not real._

Edward Elric's eyes shot open. He sat up, sucking in a breath at the sharp pain he felt in his chest, then looked around.

_Where the hell am I?_

The boy looked around, jumping back when he caught sight of the caged animals around him. They snarled and hissed, pouncing at the bars and reaching for him. Ed clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking.

The blonde stood, keeping his gaze on the floor. All he wanted was to escape this room. Edward glanced up, searching for the door he knew was supposed to be there, letting the light inside.

But no matter how hard he looked, there was no door.

The animals-  _chimeras, abominations, failed subjects-_  cried out, screaming things the alchemist could not understand.

Ed put his hands over his ears, falling to his knees. There was something nudging his side, and despite his attempts, he could hear it loud and clear when the thing whispered, "Play with me?"

Ed couldn't tell if he was screaming or not, though his throat definitely felt raw enough for it. His face was wet with tears, and Nina was still pleading with him, over and over, like a mantra.

Someone pulled Edward's hands from his ears. "Don't cry, little man," came a whisper.

A gasp caught in the alchemist's throat as he looked up into the gray-blue eyes of his mother.

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm right here." She smiled at him, pulled him into a hug. He leaned into her touch, feeling her dark hair brush his face. She smelled like home, the home that he'd burned to ashes.

Trisha pulled away. "Edward, I need you to take care of your brother. I…" She startled as a single tear fell down her face, and she reached up to touch it.

"Mom?" breathed Ed.

"It's nothing." She smiled at him, though it seemed forced. "I'm fine."

It was like getting hit with a brick when Edward remembered exactly what this memory was of. It took him back to long nights of fitful sleep at his mother's bedside, then eventually, to her grave. To being dragged away by Pinako, or by Winry, just so that he would eat something. To looking into the terrified eyes of his little brother and saying that it was all going to be okay, feeling a burning sense of guilt and dishonesty as the words left his mouth.

This was the day before everything fell apart.

This was the day before Ed and Al would go out to play with Winry, having no idea of what was going on at home.

This was the day before the Elric brothers walked through their door and discovered their mother dying on the floor.

"I just want you to remember that I love you, Edward," said Trisha. "No matter what happens."

The alchemist's eyes widened, and he pushed his mother away. "No, no, no, not this…"

Her words had haunted the boy his entire young life. She'd  _known._ She'd known long before she'd died, and…

He shook his head, choking on a sob.

"Edward?"

"No, I can't, I can't, I can't, please…"

He buried his face in his hands, the soft material of his gloves soaked with tears. Ed backed up, hitting a wall and sliding to the floor. "Please…" he whispered.

It was hours before he emerged from this position and discovered he was in a cell. Large, hooded beasts floated outside, their gaping mouths turned toward him.

Ed looked away and tried to ignore them. He'd tried everything from taunting to reasoning with them, but the dementors gave no reaction.

It had been a long time since that Minister guy had shown up, though Ed had no idea exactly how long. Time seemed to pass differently in Azkaban. Even if it felt like centuries since he'd last spoken to anyone, the alchemist knew it could have been mere days.

Trying to ignore the throbbing in his head, and holding back a cough, Edward leaned against the wall.

_There's going to be a trial eventually._

He glanced out to the dementors. A gray, scabbed hand reached through the bars.

_Eventually._

…

His vision was blurry, but Ed was pretty sure he could see the dim outline of a suit of armor. He reached out with his left hand, brushing the cool metal. It felt wonderful against his burning skin.

"Brother?" whispered the armor, and Ed frowned. It sounded like Al. But there was no way his little brother could fit in that giant thing. Sure, Alphonse was bigger than him, but not  _that_ much bigger.

"Brother, are you awake?"

Ed squinted at it. He tried to touch it with his other hand, but-

" _He's all I have left!"_

There was nothing to reach out with.

"Broth- Ed! It's okay! I'm right here!"

He took a deep breath, shoving down his panic. After a few moments that may have been hours, Ed looked up. The armor was still there, moonlight shining through its few slits.

"Al?" asked Ed, his voice little more than a croak.

The armor seemed to deflate. "Yeah," it said, voice filled with relief.

"What are you…doing awake?" It was little more than a mutter, an offhand question whispered while half coherent, but the armor-  _Al_ \- jumped back as if struck.

"I'm… uh… I'm staying with you. Granny and Winry were here all day, but you were asleep." Al fidgeted with the bedcovers, full of nervous energy.

"M'kay," said Ed, fighting exhaustion.

"You should rest, brother. Automail surgery isn't some…"

But Ed had stopped listening.  _Automail surgery?_ That woke him up. A sick fear took hold, as Edward slowly looked to the right.

Tubes and wires seemed to be growing from what was left of his right arm. Even in the dark of the night, blood was visible. It seemed to cover everything, to never end.

Ed tightened his remaining fist.

_Remaining? No, that's wrong, they're both-_

"Brother?"

Snapped back to reality, Ed looked at Alphonse, still disconcerted by his new appearance. "I…"

_This isn't happening, no, it's not real, it's-_

"Do you remember anything?"

There was a long pause. "Brother?"

"You can't, can you?"

"Can't what?"

Ed turned shining eyes on his brother, horror threatening to overtake him. "You can't sleep. You can't… you can't sleep at all."

"Ed, I-"

"It's my fault… I put you there, I…"

No one answered. Ed moved to wipe the tears away, but his arm was still

-  _right-_

trapped

-  _here-_

in metal and wiring.

"Brother, you're sick, you need to rest. Please."

_I don't need to rest, I need to_ wake up.

Ed glanced out the window. For a brief moment, he could have sworn it was a foreboding stone wall, but there was no way moonlight could filter through rock-  _unless the moonlight isn't there-_ and besides, why would there be a dingy wall in the Rockbell's home?

Shaking his head, Ed took a deep breath, then choked. The air was stale, more like Father's underground chamber than anything else.

Ed gasped and looked up. Azkaban rushed to greet him.

Outside his cell, the dementors recoiled as one. They hissed, a noise about as pleasant as rusted hinges creaking.

The alchemist jumped up, then fell back to the ground, his strength completely depleted. He looked to his right arm. The glove was tattered and torn, but just barely concealed a metal limb.

Edward breathed out, fatigue overtaking him.

The dementors watched in silence as their plaything fell into a fitful sleep. One tried to reach through the bars and draw from him again, but jumped back as if burned.

Though most human emotions were beyond them, they definitely could register confusion.

…

_I'm not too late,_ thought Ed. He grit his teeth as the stone pillar lengthened beneath his fingertips. The world grew brighter, voices louder, as he shot out of the cavern. Pride had finally been defeated, with the unexpected help of Kimblee, but the fight still took longer than Ed wanted it to. Ed could only hope that everyone above ground was alright. Even with the entire Amestrian army on their side, the odds of Father losing this fight were low.

A familiar sound reached the alchemist: an explosion.

Ed felt his heart rate speed up and willed his alchemy to do the same.

After what felt like centuries but was more like seconds, the alchemist reached the surface. Dust rolled across the battlefield, and Ed frantically searched for a familiar face.

"Mister Alphonse!" cried a high pitched voice. Ed whirled around and saw Mei, tear tracks cutting through the dirt on her face. She screamed his brother's name again, and Ed realized the decimated scraps of metal in front of her were what Mei was calling to.

The breastplate and helmet tumbled backwards, falling in front of her. Mei shrieked and yelled "Mister Alphonse!" again.

From where he stood, Ed could just make out a flash of red: the blood seal was still intact.

He was not the only one to notice.

" _A soul…I need… a… soul…"_

Father, his entire body contorted with agony, was dragging himself towards Al and Mei.

It took Ed moments to realize the threat to his little brother.

With a yell, the alchemist ran towards the homunculus. Before Father could register his assailant, a metal fist connected with his face with a resounding  _clang_.

Ed launched attack after attack, blood roaring in his ears and blocking out any other noise. He was fairly certain he was screaming, but couldn't be sure. All he saw was Father, this  _thing_ that had tried to kill his brother.

People were shouting things; encouragements, most likely, but Ed heard none of it. Fury coursed through his veins, raw ferocity, that spurred every motion.

Ed had no idea how long the fight lasted, but before he knew it, Father fell to the ground and didn't get up again.

People were cheering. Ed looked up, hearing them for the first time.

…

Father was gone, taking Greed with him. The moment Ed realized this, he hurried to his brother.

When their mother died, Ed and Al had each other.

When Ed ran to Al's side to find the blood seal cracked, he had never felt more alone.

"No," he breathed. There were some things that just weren't supposed to change.

The sky would always be blue.

The seasons would always change.

Al would always be there.

" _No_ ," he whispered again, more insistently this time.

Mei was sobbing across from him. "I'm sorry," she cried.

A hand was on his shoulder, but Ed barely felt it. "Edward," said Izumi, her voice rough with emotion.

" _No!_ " cried the blonde, roughly shoving her hand away. "I can fix this, I can… I can fix this," he muttered, surveying the spectacle in front of him.

"Edward," Izumi said again, "He's gone."

"What's going on?" yelled the colonel, still unable to see.

Ed took a shuddering breath, formulas running through his mind. He thought back to the gate, the vast amount of information poured into his mind. "I can fix this," the blonde said, his voice determined.

Ling began to speak, something about a Philosopher's stone, but before anyone could stop him, Ed slapped his hands together and pressed them to the armor.

Izumi's cry of, "NO!" was the last thing he heard before the world turned white and faded away.

…

"Well, well, well. I can't say I'm surprised to see you again," Truth said, its grin as unpleasant as ever.

"Give him back," demanded Edward.

"I can't do that."

Ed let out a cry of frustration. "Aren't you supposed to be God? Give him  _back_!" he screamed.

_He's my little brother, he's all I have left!_

"Take whatever you want! I don't care!  _Just bring him back_!"

"I'm disappointed, Mr. Alchemist. I expected more from you."

The boy in question glared at the ground. He screwed his eyes shut. "Please. Take  _me._ Just let him live."

"I can't take your life. That wouldn't be equivalent exchange."

Ed's eyes shot open. "You can… you can do it, though? You can bring him back? He's not dead?"

"I can't kill you," Truth repeated, ignoring Ed's words, "but I can bring you close to death. Your brother isn't dead. He can be retrieved. But not without a price."

"Yes! Whatever it is, I'll pay—"

"You will never see him again."

Ed stepped back as if struck. "I thought you couldn't kill me," he said.

"I can send you away. Your brother will live a long life with the people he loves. You will live a short one somewhere completely unfamiliar." Truth smiled.

The blonde frowned. "What's in it for you? Doesn't sound like much of an exchange."

Truth smiled wider. "I'll get my side of the deal eventually. Call it a… second toll." It clapped its hands together in excitement. "This is a one time deal, Mr. Alchemist. If I send you back, you're never getting it again."

Ed thought back to all the people who were waiting for him, to Winry, to Granny, even to Mustang.

Al's face drifted into his mind. His voice. " _I don't want to spend my nights awake and alone anymore!"_

He took a shuddering breath, brushed the back of his hand against a face that was  _most certainly not_ wet with tears and said, "Fine. Just… bring him back."

"As you wish!"

Laughter echoed in his ears as Ed jolted awake. His head pounded horrifically, but he was alive. "You think that's a bad memory, you hooded  _freaks_?!" called the blonde from the floor of his cell, as loud as he could muster. "I saved my brother, damnit. That's one of my best."

As the words left his mouth, Edward was horrified to find that they weren't even remotely true.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH I'm so sorry, I've had this published on ff.net since the 3rd and forgot to update on AO3! I'm really not used to xposting... So, even a little late, here it is!

_The desert's cold at night,_ thought Al. He sat at the edge of the plaza, his knees drawn close to his chest. After spending so long holed up in a hospital room, he almost welcomed the chill. It was one of many feelings that still felt new to him.

Al traced a small transmutation circle into the dusty ground with his finger, then activated it. White light poured from the circle, illuminating the space around it. Once the glow faded, a stone cube became visible.

The alchemist frowned. The transmutation itself looked almost identical to Havoc's disappearance, if on a smaller scale, which should have been impossible. Havoc was human, after all, and Al knew all too well what human transmutation looked like. This phenomenon at Xerxes appeared similar, but still inherently different. There were no black arms, or purple eyes, or red lightning.  _So not human transmutation, then…_

Al jumped as something hit him square in the back. He turned, ready to fight- to see Winry. She rolled her eyes. "Put that on Al. You're going to get yourself sick out here; it's freezing."

Al picked up the offending object. It was the cloak he had worn on the journey to Xerxes. He pulled it on under Winry's watchful eye.

"What're you doing out here, anyway?" asked the girl, her brow furrowed.

"I don't know," Al answered. "I just couldn't stay in there."

Winry looked back toward the abandoned building the rest of their group was staying in and nodded. "I think I understand." She sat next to him and followed his gaze.

After a moment of hesitation, Al broke the silence: "I just keep thinking… This is all my fault, isn't it? I mean, if it weren't for me, we wouldn't even be here, and Havoc wouldn't be gone. And I know Ed made his decision, and it wasn't up to me, I  _know_ that. It just… doesn't change things. I'm still responsible, one way or another. You got one person for the price of two. It's a pretty bad deal, don't you think?"

Winry was silent for a long moment. Early morning sunlight played across her furrowed brow. "What was that girl's name again? The princess. Mei, was it?"

"Yeah," answered Al, confused, "What about her?"

"What do you think of her?"

Pink flooded the young alchemist's face. "I-I don't see what that has to do with-"

"Do you think she should have died?"

"What?"

Winry looked at her friend dead on, her expression plain and open. "Because from what I was told, it seems Ed did what he did because your armor and blood seal cracked. And that happened because you saved that girl's life. If it weren't for you she would be dead right now. Do you regret that?"

"No! I mean, I—"

"I'm not going to pretend I'm happy Ed is gone. But that doesn't mean I'm unhappy that you're here. You're like a brother to me, Alphonse Elric. No one blames you for anything except  _you_ , so get that through your thick skull." Winry looked towards the ground. "Besides, what was that thing Ed would always say? Keep walking?"

"You got a strong pair of legs, you should get up and use 'em," Al finished, quoting his brother like scripture.

"See? Even that dumbass gets it."

The alchemist smiled, short and bittersweet. "I guess you're right. I just wish I could—"

Without warning, Winry  _shush_ ed him. Her blue eyes were wide and bright with alarm. She put a finger to her ear, then pointed to a building to their left. Al frowned and listened. A soft murmuring greeted his ears.

Someone was coming.

Moving as noiselessly as possible, the pair crept into a nearby stone structure. They ducked under the front window, an empty square in the tan wall. If they were found, questions would be asked, and that would only make things more complicated, not to mention the hostility towards Amestrians in New Xerxes.

In seconds, footsteps were audible, crunching in the sand. Al held his breath and strained to hear the new arrivals: "…the place? I guess you weren't making it up," said a man.

"When have I ever made stuff up?" a woman answered. Al frowned. He knew those voices.

"Besides," the woman continued, "I've only heard rumors; I've never seen it myself." The footsteps ceased.

"What are they researching this place for? It's completely empty. How do they know the light-things aren't just fireworks or something?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. It's beyond my pay grade."

And suddenly it clicked. Al jumped up from his hiding spot and started forward. A hand clamped around Al's shoulder and wrenched him backwards. "What the  _hell_ are you  _doing_ ," hissed Winry.

"It's okay, I know them!"

"Do you trust them? If they tell anyone anything about anything, we could—"

"Winry, I trust them with my life. I  _have_ trusted them with my life."

Reluctantly, Winry released her death grip. Her expression was filled with worry. "Do you trust them with Ed's?"

Al didn't answer. He shook Winry off, vaulted through the window, and shouted, "Miss Ross! Sergeant Brosh!"

Maria Ross whirled around, gun already drawn. "Name and allegiance, right now," she called.

Al put his hands up. "Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, but it's me—"

Before he could proclaim his identity, the man next to Ross said, "Elric?"

Maria lowered her weapon in shock. "Alphonse? Is that you?" she asked, squinting in the sparse light. Realization dawned, and she stormed towards little warning, Al found himself enveloped in a hug. She pulled back, gave him a quick once over, then slapped him across the face.

"What was that for?" cried Al.

"What on earth are you doing here?"

The boy hesitated. He resisted the urge to look behind him and made a snap decision.

"I was on my way to Xing," Al lied, "to learn more about alkahestry. Brother and I had talked about it before… Well, before. I heard about what was going on here while passing through, and figured I'd check it out."

Ross gave him a skeptical look. There was a tense moment before Brosh stepped in and clapped him on the back. "You have perfect timing," he laughed. "A few weeks earlier and you wouldn't have made it through town alive!"

Alarmed, Al looked to Ross. He gasped, noticing for the first time the bruises mottling her face. "What happened?"

"We should talk, Alphonse," Ross said in answer. "You like coffee?"

"I'm not really sure."

She smirked. "Why don't we find out? There's a good place in town. Secluded."

Brosh nodded like an overexcited puppy. Al glanced towards the place Winry was hiding. He forced a smile. "Okay. Sure."

…

A scowl etched into her face, Winry stormed through the streets of New Xerxes. Maybe Al trusted these people enough to follow them blindly into town, but she was not nearly so naïve. No way was she letting her friend march off alone.

There was only one problem. Xerxes was a maze, and following people who knew their way around perfectly, while remaining undetected was just as difficult as it sounds. It didn't come as much of a surprise when Winry became utterly lost.

Looking around, the mechanic saw booths being set up for a day's market, but no trace of Al and his companions. Gritting her teeth in frustration, Winry started toward a random street. Before she could make the necessary turn, however, someone grabbed her wrist.

Winry remembered Hawkeye's warnings of Xerxian hostility all too late and turned on her heel.

But instead of the formidable opponent she'd imagined, Winry found herself looking into the single red eye of an elderly Ishvalan woman.

She looked at Winry, her face frozen in disbelief.

"Sorry, can I help you?" asked Winry, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.

"Dr. Rockbell?" the woman asked.

Winry's breath caught in her throat. "Excuse me?" she choked out.

As if a spell had been broken, the woman shook herself and let go of Winry's wrist. "I apologize. I mistook you for someone else."

"No, no, did you say Rockbell? As in Sara Rockbell?"

"You are familiar?"

"She's… She  _was_ my mother," said Winry, the words jagged on her tongue.

"Ah," said the woman. She smiled. "Oh, where are my manners? My name is Shan. I owe your mother my life."

…

Coffee wasn't bad, once it had been diluted with copious amounts of cream and sugar, Al decided. He took another sip of the warm liquid and asked, "So, what exactly are you doing here?"

His old bodyguards exchanged glances. "I guess we should start by clarifying," Ross began. "Once this whole Xerxes business started, I was appointed to ambassador."

Al almost choked on his coffee. "What?"

"I spent a good amount of time in Xing, escorted by the Han clan. I made some strong connections. It made sense for me to come here. The higher ups sent Brosh once they got wind of this," Ross pointed to her black eye.

"You didn't answer my question earlier, what exactly happened?"

Ross smiled. "Progress, Alphonse. Progress."

At his unconvinced expression, Ross elaborated: "People in New Xerxes weren't exactly happy about my presence. After all, Amestris had no real business being here, at least in the public eye. I was attacked by an angry patriot." She smirked. "They didn't know that negotiations were actually going fairly well. Aiguo Han was furious when he found out. He made my reasons for being here public a few days later."

"And those would be…?"

"Amestris is looking to ally itself with New Xerxes. We are willing to recognize it as its own country, help them get on their feet. We're fairly certain there could be oil here, and other precious resources. We could make a powerful friend in New Xerxes."

Something didn't add up. "But what about Xing? They can't be happy about that."

Brosh winced as Ross bristled. "That Xingese girl has no idea what she's talking about," she spat.

The ambassador took a deep breath. "Sorry, that was unprofessional of me. But the Xingese diplomat has her heart set on bringing the Han clan back into the fold, with no room for compromise. It doesn't matter how many times I try to make her see sense, all she does is make stupid deals that she's too obstinate to see are one sided."

"Deals?"

"Right. That's what I meant to talk to you about. I know that spot we found you in is interesting, but you can't go back there. See, Aiguo has hinted at the possibility of negotiations with Xing if their ambassador helps him with whatever's going on over there. She's a notable alkahestrist, and she's going to be leading a research team in a few days."

Al felt his blood turn to ice. "What?"

"I know, I know, you'll miss out on an incredible learning opportunity, but Al, believe me, you do not want to get involved in this."

"Is there—Is there any chance I could talk to this Xingese ambassador?"

Brosh laughed. "Not with the detail she's got on her. And besides, even without the men, you'd still have to get past that little cat-thing." He shuddered. "It bites."

Before he knew it, a smile made its way onto Al's face. "Cat-thing?"

…

"Um, excuse me?"

It took Mei a good five seconds to realize who she was looking at, and in the end, it was only because of the voice.

"Alphonse?" she gasped.

He shot her a timid grin and gave her a small wave. "Hey, Mei."

The princess found herself struck dumb. 'Mister Alphonse' looked completely different from the emaciated figure she remembered. His hair was cut short, and his wide, amber eyes were bright with life. "I- ah- W-what are you doing here?" she spluttered.

"That's actually a very good question." He glanced back at the two he'd entered with, a pair Mei recognized as the Amestrian representative and her companion. "Do you mind talking somewhere else?"

"Sure," Mei answered. She caught the cold gaze of Ambassador Ross before she looked back to Alphonse. "That sounds like a great idea."

When Aiguo Han figured out the Xingese diplomats weren't going anywhere, he'd decided they'd need a base of operations. Luckily, Xerxes had empty spaces aplenty. Mei led Alphonse into a room she'd annexed as her office since the beginning. They took seats opposite each other at her desk. "So, Mr. Alphonse. What brings you to Xerxes?"

The alchemist shifted in his seat and pointedly avoided her gaze. "Mei? I hate to just come right out with this, but… I really need a favor."

The princess tried in vain to ignore her racing heartbeat. "Do you?" she mused, tamping down excitement.

"Ah, you remember my brother?"

And the excitement was gone. Mei fixed her posture and cleared her throat. "Of course."

"We think that whatever is happening here in New Xerxes may be connected to his disappearance."

"Why on earth would you…?" Images of a shell-shocked blonde boy disappearing in a column of light flashed before her eyes.

A  _column of light._

"Oh!" Mei cried. It did make some kind of crazy sense, if she thought about it long enough. She paused. "Wait, did you say  _we_?"

A sharp wince worked its way onto Alphonse's face. "Yeah, um. I'm here with General Mustang and his team. We're—"

But the alchemist stopped himself short at her expression. "You brought Amestrian military into the most heated political climate since pre-war Ishval?"

"I—"

"Where are they?"

"That's sort of why I'm here. We're actually camped right near the site."

If Alphonse didn't look so apologetic, and she was less fond of his face, she might have slapped him. "You can't just  _stay_ there!"

"We have to!" he shouted suddenly. The pair stared at each other in stunned silence before he composed himself. "Mei, you don't understand. The phenomenon, the light, whatever you want to call it. It appeared recently, and it took one of our own with it. So even if it's not connected to Ed, this place is definitely linked to the Second Lieutenant.

All I'm asking is for you to delay the investigation, just a little. Please, Mei. It's the only lead I have."

The princess sighed deeply. "Alphonse, do you really understand what's going on here? An entire part of my country, one that my clan has deep ties with, that I have friends in, has left us behind. Xing is in turmoil, and I am the only person who has any chance of fixing it. This investigation could save my nation. So…" Mei closed her eyes, hoping against hope she wouldn't regret this. "So if I'm to help you, you have to know that my country comes first."

His face lit up. "You'll do it?"

"I'll do what I can, for as long as I can. I know how important family is." She smiled. "And besides, you'll owe me."

Dreams of riding atop a snow-white horse with a certain alchemist flew through her mind, and Mei blushed a furious scarlet.

…

Al found Winry in a crowded square, sitting against a wall, her expression contemplative. "What're you doing out here?" he asked, joining her.

"I don't know," Winry said without looking at him. "I was following you, and then I was talking to someone, and now… Now, I just don't know."

The alchemist frowned. "Talking to someone?"

"A woman my parents saved. An Ishvalan woman."

Al froze. He had a vague memory of Ed mentioning Ishvalans in Xerxes, when he came back from being 'kidnapped' by Armstrong. "What was that like?" he asked carefully.

"Nice, I guess. I got to hear more about them, and their last moments." Winry looked at Al; her eyes were shining. "She was there when they died."

The mechanic leaned her head back against the wall. "It's like every time I come to terms with it, something new comes up. I almost wish I didn't know how they died, now."

"Winry," Al began, "knowing is better than spending your whole life wondering."

"You knew how your mom died, that didn't stop you from doing what you did," spat the girl. She flinched at her own words. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that was…"

"No, you're—you're right." Al sighed. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you want to move on, you need to accept everything. You can't just pick and choose. It looks impossible now, but there's—" he smiled to himself as he remembered his brother's words—"there's no such thing as a painless lesson."

Her tears spilled over, and Winry fell into Al's shoulder, crying softly.

_See,_ he thought.  _Even that dumbass gets it._


End file.
